Tying a Knot
by Clinkerbelle
Summary: Disappointed fan-girl therapy: AU season 4 with a SVM twist, featuring enemies old and new, a wedding, Pam and someone wearing a fez.


Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything is the property of Charlaine Harris, HBO, AC/DC, Queen, Terry Pratchett, Jim Butcher or the BBC.

I'm relaunching this story. Again, I know, I'm a pain in the ass. Everything post Intermission, while I loved parts of it, just didn't sit right with me. Too big and cryptic. Messy. At some point, hopefully within the not so distant future, I'll write the story's final chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>A Proposal<strong>

Sookie's POV.

Eric was on my porch and wearing all black: Black leather jacket, black sweater, black jeans and black leather boots. His short hair was lighter and softer-looking than I remembered and kinda messy. He was grinning. Fangs out. If it had been anyone else but Eric Northman, I'd say that he was beaming. His smile only grew wider as he fixed his eyes on the gun in my hands.

"Expecting Bill?"

I ignored the stabbing pain in my chest and cocked it. The sound wasn't reassuring, yet profoundly satisfying. I said: "Among others. What do you want, Eric?"

His face turned inscrutable, but his blue eyes were blazing. The last time that he had looked at me like that... Stuff had happened. Hell, if not for Pam interrupting Other Stuff might have happened right then and there on his desk. Instead, I'd been chained up in the basement.

"We need to talk. You're in danger."

No shit Sherlock. I mumbled: "Must be Tuesday."

Eric frowned. I hissed: "That's hardly news, Eric. What do you need? My telepathy? My blood? A kidney?"

If it had been anyone else but Eric Northman, I'd say that he looked hurt. Okay, there was nothing maybe about it. Eric was definitely feeling the burn. I felt a twinge of guilt. He was a highhanded bastard with an opportunistic streak a mile wide, but he wasn't all bad. I sighed audibly and uncocked the gun. Eric eyed it warily. I'd shot him before. Clearly he wasn't angling for a repeat of said incident. I sighed, again, and returned the gun to its designated hiding place in a kitchen drawer. As I spun on my heals, I collided head first with Eric's broad chest.

"Son of a bee!", I murmured, clutching my throbbing nose. My eyes was watering.

"Let me see."

Eric tentatively pinched the bridge of my nose. I winced, but the initial pain was dulling.

"It's not broken."

His fingers lingered on my face, gently cradling my cheek. I froze, exclaiming: "You're in my house."

I knew it! That damn vampire had bought my house! That or the new owner had seen fit to issue Eric with an invitation.

"Technically, it's my house.", Eric said. I blinked. I'd assumed that Bill was the damn vampire in question. I'd assumed that he'd had my family home cleaned, repainted and refurbished as a means to make amends for all the crap that he'd put me through. Still rigid, I squeaked: "You did all of this? Why?"

Suddenly Eric seemed at a loss for words. It was oddly unsettling. Eventually he said: "Because I want you to be mine."

Now, that just pissed me off.

"I'm not a thing to be bought!", I hissed, stepping away from his touch.

"Then I'll settle for an hour of your time."

Eric draped his jacket across the back of a kitchen chair and straddled another. I took a seat facing him, knees crossed and hands clasped together in my lap. He said: "Bill is in New Orleans. Locked in a coffin lined with silver and starving, But it's a slap on the wrist considering that he tried to assassinate the Queen. If not for his connection to you, he'd be finally dead."

Oh. So he'd kept his promise: Bill had sworn that he'd kill every vampire who knew of my fairy hybrid status. Well, he'd tried to keep it anyway: A fact I realized that that I didn't find endearing. It was just so...typical. Bill was always trying and failing. That and lying about it, and getting caught lying about it, only to thump his chest and insist that he'd done it all for me, not to me.

"Apparently Bill wasn't just drawing his pay from Sophie Anne, but from Nan Flanagan and she wanted someone less...erratic on the throne."

"Anyone I know?", I said absentmindedly. Eric gave me a funny look. No, it couldn't be...

"Bill?", I gasped.

Eric smirked.

"Apparently she wanted someone in charge that she could control."

Don't ask me why, but I knew with absolute certainty that excluded Eric.

"Or maybe she just wanted to remind Sophie Anne that she's expendable. His plan would've succeeded if Andre Paul hadn't intervened."

Huh?

"Sophia Anne's blood brother."

My head was beginning to throb. I decided to cut to the chase: "You think that they'll use Bill to track me?"

"I know it."

To my own surprise I found myself chuckling at this point. All right, laughing like a mad hyena was more like it.

"Sookie?", Eric said tentatively. He looked... puzzled. Concerned. Which only made me laugh even harder. Finally, wiping tears from my eyes, I said: "There's a fairy Queen coming for me. She sent a fairy to procure me. Another cousin of mine. My so called fairy godmother."

Eric snorted with laughter. It was sorta funny. In a really fucked up way. That is, except the part where it was happening to me. Silence fell. Our gazes locked. Eric said: "You are in need of protection. I can provide that. All I ask in return is that you trust me."

He had some nerve...

"And you just think that my legs are just gonna magically open for you?"

Eric smirked.

"Trust goes both ways, Eric. You could've told what you were planning."

"Could I?", he said.

"Yes", I said, feeling beyond exasperated, "If you'd kept me in the loop. If you'd told that Russell killed your family, I'd..."

The look on his face made my voice falter.

"That's crazy, Sookie.", Eric whispered.

"Yeah. I guess."

That's me: Crazy Sookie Stackhouse. Suddenly I felt as if I was standing at the edge of a dark precipice, starring down a bottomless void.

"No."

Eric was kneeling next to me, tilting my chin so that I'd look him in the eye.

"It's brave. You're a telepath. You know better than anyone man's capacity for hypocrisy, yet you find it in you to hope for the best and trust people that you can't read."

Eric got to his feet and tugged on my hand.

"Come on. You need to know what I'm planning and you'll be much more comfortable in the living room."

Apparently this was the Eric Northman equivalent of an apology.

* * *

><p><strong>The Best Woman<strong>

Pam's POV

"You're marrying her?"

Alright, I might be repeating myself, repeatedly, but Eric had some nerve pulling that face on me. He was looking at me like I was the problem, being dimwitted or purposefully obtuse.

"Yes, Pam. In less than 24 hours. In Vermont. It'll be a secret wedding. You'll be the anonymous source that outs us to the media. The AVL is desperate for positive publicity. They'll love our little Cinderella news story. The details are on my laptop", Eric said flatly.

Of course, I reasoned, that's a symptom of the disease: The insane don't know that they're insane. It wasn't that uncommon. The really old ones had a tendency to succumb to depression or just plain loose their marbles. Neither Godric nor Russell were atypical as such. Just spectacular. But Eric had been fine when I left him last night. Surely, you didn't do a 180 in a day? I forced myself to focus on the immediate consequences of his insanity.

"Sophie Anne is still our queen.", I said, "Once the noise dies down she'll order you to relinquish your claim on the girl. If you refuse she's at liberty to put you to your final death without fear of retaliation on part of the Authority. She'll be in her right to employ the Headhunters and she's got the money. We won't stand a chance. Not in the long run."

He smiled: An idiot grin. I squashed my urge to slap some sense into him. Unless you were sparring, naked or both, Eric didn't respond well to violence.

"Sookie won't be my pet. We'll be married as recognized by human and vampire law."

Fuck a zombie! I narrowed my eyes, feeling acutely suspicious.

"Eric, what's my favorite sleepwear?"

Eric chuckled.

"Knee length woolen socks and nothing else, why do you ask?"

My otherwise stylish human self had been a martyr to bad circulation. I grumbled: "Just checking that you're not a skinwalker."

His expression sobered as he pulled me into a tight embrace. I gave him a hard squeeze, making his ribs creak.

"I want this. I can't leave her at the mercy of hostile fairies and the likes of Bill and Sophie Anne. No more than I was able leave you to whither and die in that hellhole. But if you go back to Minnesota I won't hold it against you."

He meant it. I felt it in my blood. Absolute sincerity. It scared me. Whether or not he'd admit it to himself my maker was changing. Perhaps he was going through some sort of undead midlife crisis?

"Don't be an ass.", I said with more than a hint of an eye roll, "I'm not going anywhere. What else do you need?"

We let go of each other, both eager to pretend that the hug and associated soppyness hadn't happened.

"Just cover for me at the bar. Run interference with the Queen. Buy yourself something ridiculously expensive and frivolous and put it on my card.", Eric said.

I smirked. I'd do that. And more.

* * *

><p>As featured in The New York Times, WeddingCelebrations, AUG 11, 2009

A transcript:

Headline 1: Undying Love

Pictures:

Left, Eric Northman. Headshot.

Right, Sookie Stackhouse. Full body shot.

Headline 2: Tragedy turns to triumph as viking vampire weds small town waitress. Twice.

Tekst: Sookie Stackhouse, 27 and Louisiana native, vent missing on AUG 8, 2008. Fellow residents of picturesque Bon Temps, including her family and friends, believed her to dead in addition to missing, presumably at the hands of a jealous ex-boyfriend with a Napoleon complex. Only one man refused to succumb to this popular belief: Long time admirer Eric Northman: The sherif of Area Five, Louisiana, Shreveport resident, local business owner and vampire spokesperson. His patience was rewarded with a resounding "yes" upon her safe return to his previous offers of marriage. Sookie Stackhouse, whose year long disappearance was the result of a car accident and subsequent memory loss, proposed that they elope. Accordingly they were married by a Justice of the Peace at Montpelier town hall on AUG 10, 2009. According to witnesses the blushing bride was dressed in a pretty white and yellow sundress with matching sandals. In addition to aforementioned ceremony, they will be married according to ancient vampire law on the premises of Fangtasia, 444 Industrial Drive in Shreveport, la, on Aug 11, 2009. The marriage rite will performed by a mysterious figure know as the Magister. Our local correspondent will be at hand, thus allowing our readers to gain a unique insight into the workings of the fascinating world of vampire culture.

Quoting a close personal friend: "Eric is a bit old fashioned and crazy in love with Sookie. They'll do an elaborate church wedding once they find a minister who'll marry them."

* * *

><p><strong>Deprogramming and Dummies<strong>

Sookie's POV.

I slept like the dead. Only my ears weren't impervious to the penetrative force of Ginger's screams. A quick sweep of my immediate surroundings, employing both my regular five senses and my irregular sixth one, only served to confirm my initial suspicions:

1.) I was lying on the couch in Eric's office at Fantasia. Someone had wrapped me in soft, baby blue, fleece plaid, propped my head up on a pillow and removed my shoes. Other than that I was still wearing yesterday's outfit. There was rice in my bra. Vermont wasn't a dream. It'd really happened.

2.) Jason, Sam, Lafayette and Jesus had decided to play the part of wedding crashers. One of them with a gun and a makeshift silencer.

* * *

><p>"Did you kill Ginger?"<p>

"The waitress? Of course not."

My former boss was offended. Amazing. I breathed a sigh of relief and chugged the bottle of water proffered by Lafayette. Five hours later and I was still reeling from the effects of that damn sedative. My best friend's cousin was regretting, acutely, that he'd ever listened to Sam and Jason. His primary reason for going along with their idiot scheme had been to keep them out of trouble and now Jesus was chin deep in vampire shit. He should've known. Those damned visions. Sam's bloody hands. The angry outbursts. Nearly beating that Hotshot redneck to death. Shooting his thieving kid brother in the leg. Still, who would've thought that Sam the bar-tending doormat was a closeted Nicky Santoro? Jesus was thinking along similar lines. He'd been the one left holding the needle. Jason was just plain terrified. Whether it was on account of Sam's behavior, the risk of retaliation or both, I couldn't say.

"But you killed six men. In cold blood.", I said. Based on the room's shabby decor and the view, I'd wager that we were hiding out in some random stranger's hunting cabin. Sam took my allegation in his scary stride.

"Yes. Simply wounding a werewolf won't do you any good. It'll just piss 'em off. They need to be put down."

"Jesus Christ, Sam! They were members of the Shreveport pack. Paid to keep me safe. If you'd wanted to talk to me all you needed to do was call me. Or show up when I'd had eight hours worth of proper sleep like I bloody well asked! Don't you guys ever check your voicemails?"

I might have been yelling at this point. Sam's prevalent feeling was sadness. On my behalf.

"He's done a real number on her head."

"What?", I snapped.

"It's Stockholm Syndrome."

Sam was talking at me, not to me. And how did the capitol of Sweden figure into my decision to marry Eric? Belated realization hit.

"Don't be ridicules. I'm no Patty Hearst. I was kidnapped by our fairy cousin. Tell them Jason. Tell them about Granddaddy Earl's watch."

He had.

"It's just a watch, Sookie. It doesn't prove anything."

Jason sounded slightly peeved. Clearly he'd initially thought that it did and he was beginning to suspect that he'd been right all along. Sometimes I just want to put my brother's head in a bucket and kick it. This was one of those times.

Jesus glared at Sam. Apparently he'd gone off-script

"You guys were at her bedside in Jackson. You saw what Bill did to her. She still took him back", Sam said to the room at large, leaving the 'clearly she's insane' heavily implied, but unsaid.

"Yeah, I made a mistake, but I didn't marry Bill. I married Eric."

Sam just looked at me. Apparently that didn't make any difference in his book.

"He's a killer and drug dealer. Brutal. I saw tear a guy to shreds with his bare hands.", Lafayette interjected.

"I know. We made a deal. No unexploded bombs in the garden."

That left them stumped. I bit my lip. It took a lot out of me not to add: "To be fair, the guy had committed a hate crime, burned three vampires to death simplu because he didn't like vampires, and Eric isn't dealing anymore." All that they'd hear was a battered woman making excuses.

"Did he tell you that he bit Hadley? Nearly killed her? Made her drink his blood!", Jason yelled, his thoughts revealing what'd caused him to loose his newfound marbles and resort to impulsive stupid form: An early morning call from Hadley.

"Yes. He was trying to figure out why Bill's boss wants me so badly."

Stunned silence. They were looking at me as if I'd grown horns.

"Bill's boss?", Lafayette asked.

"Hadley was seeing the vampire queen of Louisiana and told her about my disability. Bill is one of the queen's employees. He was sent to Bon Temps to procure me. For her collection. Apparently that's how he makes his money. As a human trafficker slash pimp turned hooker."

More stunned silence. Thankfully, no one touched me. The last thing I wanted was comfort, least of all that which came with a side order of pitying thoughts.

"So you married Eric? On the rebound?", Jason eventually murmured.

"No. I'm not with Eric. It's a business arrangement."

Apparently "business arrangement" was code for trading sex for mob style protection. I gritted my teeth.

"The purpose of the Vermont wedding was to get Nan Flanagan to badger the Magister into marrying us according to vampire law. Tonight. Once that's over and done with, they can't drag me off to New Orleans."

"What's his gain?", Sam said: "Eric doesn't do anything for free."

"Blood that supposedly tastes like honey, wheat and sunshine and a daytime operative who can read people's thoughts."

So I lied. It was a white lie. Sometimes the truth is simply too unbelievable to be helpful.

"You don't have to do this", Lafayette insisted, taking my hands in his: "You could run away."

"I've had Bill's and Eric's blood. They'll track me. As soon as the sun sets Eric's coming for me."

And that was the best case scenario.

"Not if we break the connection.", Jesus said, causing the reemergence of my "WTF?" face.

"I've found a spell that'll break the blood tie."

Lafayette added: "Jesus is a Brujo. A male witch. It runs in the family. According to legend one of his ancestors sold his soul and the souls of his descendants to a demon."

"Isn't it always something like that?", I deadpanned. For a moment I allowed myself to picture my life as it would be without Bill and Eric in it. It was a pretty sweet deal. Sure, I'd have to leave Bon Temps, but it would be a fresh start. I could always get another waitressing job and shielding my mind from the thoughts of other's, once an all-consuming task, took a lot less efforts these days. No one would know about my disability. There'd be no more crazy Sookie Stackhouse. For that alone it just might be worth it. And most people had been getting on just fine without me. For a year. It sure was tempting.

* * *

><p><strong>Second Thoughts<strong>

Eric's POV.

The text message from my day man, Bobby Burnham, wasn't what I'd expected.

"Six guards dead. Professional job. Security footage missing. Mrs. Northman taken and drugged by 4 masked men. Ginger recognized 1 voice. Maybe Lafayette Reynolds. Press parked out front. Caterers, decorators and AVL representatives out back. Awaiting orders."

Pam relaxed slightly. She'd never admit to it, but she had a soft spot for Ginger. Still, she was fuming.

"What the hell were you thinking? Leaving the trouble magnet at Fangtasia?"

"She wanted to screen the decorators and caterers for ties to the FOTS and other anti-vampire hate groups."

And to quote Sookie: 'Our agreement was that you protect me, not imprison me.'

"Really?"

"Yes.", I said, running a hand through my hair.

And she'd wanted to get as far away as possible from me. She'd wanted to know each and every little unpleasant fact and I'd complied. Because the last thing she needed was any more nasty surprises. The way she'd looked at me... As if I'd revealed that my favourite pastime was impaling babies on railroad spikes.

"You don't think that she might've..."

"Pam", I roared.

A beat.

"Motorcycle gear and balaclavas?", she added in her usual monotones.

I nodded. She turned on her heel and flounced back down the hall, earning my absent-minded admiration. The actual bleeding, while unattractive, was just a symptom. Imagine a really bad migraine, only it's not your head that's hurting, it's every cell in your body, and you've got the bleeds. Her apparent ease of movement was evidence of the extortion of immense self control. Pam, being Pam, hadn't bothered to knock. Or to wear a stitch of clothing. I made a mental note to ask her to wear some if Sookie was around. Otherwise, she might get the wrong idea. Also, Pam hadn't bothered not to vocalize her reason for staying at my place. She thought that I was insane. Or going through a undead mid-life crisis. Probably both. If only.

I forced myself to focus at the problem at hand and answered Bobby. The message read as follows:

'Call in the cleaners. Put the bodies on ice in the basement. Run interference with the AVL and the press. Forward all calls from the Shreveport packmaster and co. to my cell.'

The cleaners, Sadie and Dotsy, was a were mother-daughter duo, who'd specialized in dealing with the aftermath of bloody murder. They were incredibly expensive, but worth every penny: Throrough, inoffensive stay at home mom looking types, who'd rather loose a finger than name a customer. Literally. That's why Sadie wasn't wearing her wedding ring.

Alcide Herveaux parked his van in the adjoining two car garage, where Pam and I joined him once the door was safely shut. While Pam and I were shrouded in black leather and wool, he was wearing his usual uniform of flannels, blue jeans and boots. He reeked of wolf and testosterone. Disgusting.

"I guess congratulations are called for.", said the smug bastard: "That is, if the bride wasn't missing."

I growled.

* * *

><p><strong>Family and Friends<strong>

Sookie's POV.

It was growing dark outside. The sound of an engine cut through the silence and a car door slammed. I shook myself out of wishful thinking mode and gave Sam a pointed look.

"No, it wouldn't work. I'd always be worrying that someone would find out about me. Unable to trust anyone. I can't live like that."

Besides, I thought, it would take a hell of a lot more than a change of name and address to throw those damn fairies of the scent. I shut my eyes and did a quick sweep of my immediate surroundings. There was Sam, Jason, Lafayette, Jesus and... Oh Shit!

"What's Hadley doing here?", I hissed.

Talking to Claudine.

"She wanted to help", murmured a perplexed looking Jason.

And she'd brought Hunter.

* * *

><p>Claudine looked every inch the fairy in her frilly white dress, crouching before an enthralled Hunter with her hand outstretched. There wasn't the slightest hint of troll.<p>

Then it dawned on me: You had to be willing. Consent mattered. They couldn't just take you. I pushed the memory of her true shape to the fore of my mind and deliberately aimed the thought at the boy. He yelped with fright and ran to his mother. Claudine straightened. Her expression was one of immense sadness.

"Just go away", I pleaded: "Forget about us."

"I can't.", she said: "There's too much at risk. We've used up nearly all our magic in our efforts to make the vampires forget about us. You must join us. You are my kin."

Translation: Don't make me hurt you.

Claudine's gaze fixed on Hadley, who'd finally gotten a fucking clue and was scrambling to get to her car.

Looking back, that's when I lost it. Oh, they cared all right, I silently fumed. The fay. About their kin. To the extent that they'd leave a middle-aged woman the single parent of two children and in the belief that she'd been abandoned by the love of her life. And, sure, they'd rob a man of everything that mattered, but they'd leave him breathing. Because they cared. Fist clenched, I stalked towards my so called fairy godmother.

"You're just as bad as any vampire!", I spat: "You're stealing people! Poisoning them!"

Claudine flinched and raised her hands in what looked like a defensive gesture. Only she didn't zap me. A copper dagger materialized in her right hand. Then everything vent black.

* * *

><p>My face was smushed against a leather clad shoulder. Hence the blackout.<p>

"Mine.", he whispered. I shivered. Somewhere Claudine screamed. Quite frankly, I didn't give a damn. Not at the time.

"Need to breathe.", I murmured and he let me go, which wasn't what I'd wanted. Don't get me wrong. I hate all that possessive vampire crap. It's about ego and claiming your favourite toy. So not a compliment. But I would've been shish kebab.

"Come here."

It was a demand, not a request. I barely recognized my own voice. Eric stooped and let me remove that damn balaclava. There were traces of blood by his ears and nose and his hair was a mess. It didn't make any difference. He was still gorgeous. Meanwhile, I'd slept in the dress that I was wearing and my hair... I didn't even want to think about that. It was grossly unfair.

I cupped his face between my hands, tracing the cleft in his chin with my thumb. Eyes shut, mouth slightly ajar - his expression was one of rapt pleasure. His eyelids fluttered as I parted his lips to caress his fangs with my fingers, making him moan. I'd always wanted to do that. To him.

The spell was broken by a loud popping sound. Eric's eyes shot open and his entire body tensed up. Gun shoots. Plural. Clinging to him, I felt the next five hit home. Home being his broad back.

Down he came, leaving me trapped beneath him. Thankfully the ground was on the soggy side. It had give. I didn't break anything. I dug my heels into the dirt and desperately pushed at Eric's chest. Nothing happened. Peering over his shoulder, I noted the presence of Hadley. She was wielding a wooden stake.

"What the hell are you doing?", I wheezed.

"Making amends.", my cousin replied. Her gaze fixed on Eric.

"Touch him and you're toast!", I snarled.

Hadley blinked. Something white emerged from the shadows, knocking her over in a flying leap. It was Alcide, in his wolf shape. I closed my eyes in silent prayer. Just for a moment. I'd never presume that anyone is listening. Nevertheless, it's important to recognize when things go your way.

* * *

><p>"Sookie? Are you okay?"<p>

"Yeah. Just stuck."

A very naked Alcide played the part of liberator. He wasn't all that gentle with Eric. Given what I knew of their mutual history, I was mostly surprised that Alcide still worked for him.

"Thank you."

"Any time."

"Jason!", I screeched, only to find him at my right elbow. I continued in a lower voice: "Alcide, you've got your truck parked nearby, right?"

He nodded. I turned to my brother. He'd already picked up Hadley. She was crying and clutching her wrist to her chest. Her hair and clothes were muddied. Hunter was still locked in the car. Smart kid.

"Sookie, I'm so sorry.", she whimpered: "For everything."

"I know."

She genuinely was. That was...something. Not much but something.

"I'll take her to the emergency room in Shreveport.", Jason said.

"No, The Queen is visiting Shreveport. Go some place smaller. Take her car. Alcide is gonna give you a ride home. I'll deal with things on this end."

I grabbed my brother's arm, giving it a good hard squeeze.

"And don't talk to anyone about me and Eric. Least of all Hadley. Keep your fucking mouth shut."

I didn't stay to watch the tail lights disappear. There was still the small matter of three meddlesome friends and a vampire, who'd be... Correction: Two vampires. I'd nearly tripped over Pam. I tentatively called her name, prodding her shoulder with my foot. She groaned.

"Are you all right?"

"Just peachy."

Pam hiccuped. She tried to get up, staggered and feel on her ass. Did I mention that it looked as if someone had emptied an industrial sized can of glitter over her head? It did. I bit back a snigger and knelt by Eric. Smoothing back his hair back from his face, I felt a fresh stab of panic.

"Pam, he's so still. Why is he still out of it?"

She shrugged. Fucking shrugged.

"You're drunk!"

And sparkling.

"Am not.", she slurred: "Teeny tiny fairy and poof."

And that was all there was to be said for Claudine: She'd met Pam. End of story. Literally on account of Pam passing out. Again. Meanwhile, the guys were holed up in the hunting cabin, staying out of reach of angry vampires.

I managed to turn Eric on his side, propping him up with my shoulder, which in turn allowed me to unzip his motorcycle jacket. Peeling back the soaked through leather revealed a nasty looking wound at the base of his neck.

* * *

><p>"Were you harmed?"<p>

Eric's voice was rough. Liked he'd been sleeping.

"No", I beamed. Not really. Whatever bruises I'd acquired would be gone soon thanks to the healing properties of his blood.

"Pam?"

"Five sheets to the wind on vampire crack, but unscathed.", I chirped. Eric closed his eyes. Presumably in relief. He looked ashen and drawn. That is, beneath the layer of blood and grime. He'd only let me suck out the one bullet. 'Had it come to this already?, I wondered, 'Had he realized that I wasn't worth the trouble.'

"Alcide really came through for you tonight. I'd give him a bonus...", I babbled.

Eyes still closed, Eric said: "I need to know who it was that killed your bodyguards."

Oh, of course. I mentally smacked myself for being an self-absorbed cow. Eric got to his feet, pulling me with him.

"I can't-"

"This isn't a request."

It was the Sheriff of Area Five making a demand.

Sookie Stackhouse, telepath, replied: "I'm won't be an accomplice to murder."

"Which is exactly what you'll be, only after the fact.", he snarled.

He had a good point. Six in fact.

"I did it.", Sam interjected, stepping into the moonlight.

"On your own?"

Eric crossed his arms.

"Yes.", Sam replied levelly. Finally Eric said: "You got 24 hours. Then I'm passing on your name and description to the Shreveport pack-master."

Which wasn't exactly what I'd expected. Less bloody for one thing. At least for now. Then again, Eric would be very busy for the next couple hours.

I hugged Sam and apologized:

"Don't be sorry. It's not your fault.", he said and kissed me on the cheek. An image flashed before my inner eye: The face of a woman: Young, pretty and blonde, with lifeless blue eyes.

"I know", I said, adding: "But I'm sorry to loose a friend."

Even if I didn't know him very well.

"Be careful."

With those parting words Sam was gone. In his place was an owl. It took to the night air with a piercing shriek.

* * *

><p>"What's the penalty in case of the deliberate murder of a pack member?"<p>

"Death."

I figured as much.

"What are you gonna do to Jesus and Lafayette?"

Not to mention my brother and Hadley.

"I was thinking something along the lines of a strongly worded warning."

"No torture?"

It wasn't really a question.

"No torture."

"They're scared shitless as it is.", I noted.

"Good."

Eric was pissed. No doubt about that. Yet there wasn't anything barely contained or bottled up about it. I didn't get the coiled up, just about to snap, vibe from him. Sure, he'd fake it to intimidate people when he was in sheriff mode, but he'd always kept himself in check. I'd recognized that from day 1. Only, then I'd perceived it as proof of a lack of feeling - that he was made out of cold hard stone. Now it made me think of Terry: How he'd assured Arlene that he'd never killed anything not on purpose.

"Sookie?"

Note to self: A hug can be the cause of much confusion in the mind of a 1000+ year old vampire.

"I like you."

Stunned silence.

"So... I've grown on you?"

Yep. There it was. The smirk.

"Like a fungi?"

He laughed. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"You need to feed.", I added, pushing back my hair.

His pupils dilated, the black all but consuming the blazing blue of the iris.

* * *

><p><strong>The X Factor<strong>

I shivered and eyed my neck in the mirror in the ladies' room at Fangtasia. My skin was pristine thanks to the healing properties of Eric's blood. The accumulated blood, sweat and grime of the last 24 hours had been washed down the drain in the private bathroom attached to Eric's office. Nevertheless the memory of the bite lingered. No X to mark the spot was needed. It still tingled. There had been pain. There's always pain. But it had been quick and sharp. Carefully measured. Preceded by a kiss: Oh so soft lips caressing and blunt teeth nipping playfully at the skin. Subsequently, within a matters of seconds, discomfort gave way to pleasure: The gentle pressure of his mouth drawing fluids from much lower...

I blushed. It was the blood. It had to be the blood. I'd clung to him like a barnacle. There was a quiet knock on the door. Vampire.

"Come in."

It was Eric. He was wearing a light grey three piece suit, white dress-shirt, black leather shoes and a matching black silk tie. Yum.

"You are beautiful."

My face turned an even deeper shade of crimson. I did look pretty good. I was wearing high heeled, gold sandals and a flowing, full length, low cut, hot pink silk dress with straps of the spaghetti variety and a gold embroidered bodice. My hair was loose and curly and I'd opted for the less is more approach to make up, settling for a single coating of waterproof mascara and a bit of shimmery lips gloss. Still, it was the first time that any man had ever told me, while looking me in the eye, that I was beautiful. Possibly excepting he who shall not be named.

"And you look very handsome.", I replied, surreptitiously checking that I wasn't drooling: "How's Pam?"

She'd run off while Eric was feeding and somehow managed to ignore the call. Hence, issuing strongly worded warnings to Jesus and Lafayette had been a task left to me, which I found fitting. They were my dumb ass friends, my responsibility. What I'd been less thrilled about was the fact that Eric returned soaking wet. While he'd looked amazing with his already tight fitting clothing clinging to him, showcasing every taut muscle, it had made for a chilly flight back to Shreveport.

"Well, she's no longer convinced that she is the female incarnation of Steve Irwin. I guess that counts as progress. I've forbidden her to speak during the ceremony though.", Eric said. The glint of amusement in his eyes faded. He retrieved a small black box from his jacket pocket.

"I understand that humans, especially Americans, attach a great deal of significance to trinkets such as these."

It contained a wedding band in white gold and a matching engagement ring with 19 small rubies set in a delicate flower pattern. I slipped them on and took his hand. Our fingers intertwined.

"Ready?"

I'd told him about my issues with crowds.

"As ready as I'm ever gonna be."

* * *

><p>They'd set out chairs on the dance floor. Walking down the aisle, holding hands with Eric, was a stressful experience, but mostly on account of flash photography and the excited mental state of the human reporters present. Taking pictures during the ceremony wasn't allowed and once it was completed they'd be escorted from the premises. The actual guest list was primarily comprised of vampires, weres and other supernaturals associated with Eric in his function as sheriff of Area Five or through his many businesses. Their minds were mostly silent to me.<p>

A tall slender figure, wearing a black velvet cloak was standing before the dais. A tall, muscular, bald man with snarly thoughts, strange purple eyes and an unfortunate affinity for ruby red genii pants was hovering at its right elbow. He proclaimed in a loud, booming, voice: "I pray, be silent. Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered to witness the joining of a human and a vampire in marriage as hallowed by ancient vampire custom and law."

A slender hand, the colour of chalk, drew back the dark hood, revealing a shock of black hair and a striking angular face with cold light blue eyes. The magister was a female vampire. She'd been turned when she was 16 years old or even younger. A good 800 years ago according to Eric. She said: "The Authority hereby acknowledges Eric Northman's just claim on Sookie Stackhouse. Infringements against his right of ownership henceforth equals acts of defiance against the Authority that warrant the administration of final death without sanction."

Yep, that was the standard phrasing. Vampires. Romantic to a fault. And that's why Nan Flanigan had felt it necessary to add a few embellishments to give the ritual the right "ancient" feel. With a barely contained sneer the Magister produced a dagger with a silver blade and a golden cup from a black velvet bag. I took the dagger and cut a deep groove into Eric's arms as previously instructed, managing somehow not to wince and to ignore the sound and smell of sizzling flesh. Eric's designated task was to catch the spilled blood in aforementioned golden cup and look enamoured yet unthreatening. The magister's nostrils flared visibly as I slid the blade across my left wrist and the overall atmosphere of the room changed noticeably as the smell of my blood hit the air. Suddenly, everywhere I looked gleaming fangs were on display.

"Retract your fangs!", Eric snarled, grabbed a random lecher from the crowd and snapped his neck: A complicated procedure, but in this case reduced to a single fluid motion that radiated pure undiluted, fury. The vampire in question collapsed in a heap, hitting the floor with a resounding thud, whereupon he was dealt a skull crushing kick by Pam.

Fangs were retracted. Perplexed looks were exchanged. Nan was displeased. Looking down, I realised that Eric had left me holding the golden cup. Ginger band-aided my wrist and tempers seem to dampen as the flow of my blood ceased. I relaxed, marginally. Blazing blue eyes entered my field of vision. Eric was kneeling before me: A gesture that bought back memories of Godric and Dallas.

"Sookie Stackhouse. Do you belong to me?"

I downed a mouthful of blood. The addition of symbolic value didn't do anything to change its flavour, texture or smell. Thankfully I wasn't squeamish.

"Yes. I am yours."

I put the golden cup to his mouth and watched as Eric drained it. He licked his lips and smiled - It was a slightly owlish grin, almost shy. I snaked my arms around his neck and kissed him. Hard. Eric got to his feet, sweeping me up in a bridal style embrace. In some far off place people were applauding and cheering. Note the absence of wolf-whistling. Eventually Eric's lips relocated to my ear. And there he was, staring straight back at me: Bill Fucking Compton.

* * *

><p>Eric removed the band aid and wiped away the congealing blood with a moist cloth, revealing the newly healed skin beneath. It would've been a hell of a lot easier if we'd done the blood exchange the old-fashioned way, but we owed Nan a show. I squirmed, mostly due to mental discomfort. I was sitting on Eric's throne. Pam was sitting on my right, in a regular chair.<p>

"Why?", I murmured.

"You're my wife. If I'm not around-"

"You mean if you and Pam aren't around."

I wasn't about to come between the two of them. I wasn't suicidal.

"If we aren't around, you're my representative. My subjects need to be accustomed to see you in a position of power."

Subjects. Royalty. Thiefdoms. The Authority. The Magister. The comprehensive list of various properties of vampire blood. The (high) status conferred by a marriage between vampires vs. the (low) status conferred by marriage between vampires and humans. My general vampire knowledge had been vastly expanded within the last 48 hours. Eric took a seat at my feet or, rather, between them. He was lounging, rubbing his cheek against the inside of my thigh. Pam brushed away my hair and whispered in my ear: "Eric's not going to cater to their sense of propriety and look abashed. Least of all defensive. That would make him seem weak."

And finally dead. Within the immediate future. Pam seemed to have sobered up somewhat. That or she was really good at acting like it.

I forced myself to focus on the people, who'd lined up to congratulate us. That included the Shreveport pack master. His name was Colonel Henry Flood. He was ex-military and a stout man in his mid sixties that exuded an air of quiet authority. I felt horrible about keeping the news of the death of his pack members from him. But eventually I had to face the Bill sized bluebottle in my personal ointment. He was wearing a suit. It was a navy, double breasted, pinstriped number with a light blue shirt and a purple tie, which made him look like a middle-aged mob boss with constipation. On his arm was Scarlet O'Hara dressed in black silk. Only this version of Scarlet had flaming red hair, green eyes and fangs.

"Your Majesty.", Eric murmured, bowing in unison with Pam. Their faces were inscrutable and their stance referential, yet they looked completely and utterly unimpressed. I, on the other hand, only managed a hobbled courtesy.

"Northman. Miss Stackhouse. Congrats.", Queen Sophie Anne replied flatly.

"Thank you, your highness, but it's Mrs. Northman as of yesterday."

I smiled. The note of my voice was positively saccharine. God, I hated this woman! Bill flinched. He was gazing at me. Soulfully. I restrained the urge to roll my eyes and kick him in the nuts.

"I beg a boon."

"How may I assist my Queen?"

"I'd like a word with your lovely wife. In private. On the subject of mutual friends."

Well, we might as well get that shit over and done with.

"Sure", I beamed: "Darling, can we use your office?"

"If that is your wish, Dear One.", Eric said, eyeing me pointedly. I grabbed Pam's hand and dragged her with me, feeling slightly insulted. As I'd ever intended to be left alone with those people. Who knew what they might try? Or worse, I might start bawling.

"Please, make yourself comfortable.", I said, resting my elbows on his desk and steepling my fingers together. Sophie Anne sat down right across from me, whereas Bill opted for the couch. Pam was leaning against the wall at my back. In the subsequent silence you would've heard a pin drop. Eventually Sophie Anne said: "I'm afraid that poor Bill have been greatly inconvenienced by your absence, Miss... Mrs. Northman."

"Yes?"

"He vent to great _pains_."

This chick had seen way to many James Bond movies.

"Did he?"

"He's still experiencing a great deal of discomfort."

Bill unbuttoned his blazer and shirt, revealing a chain of some sort, lined with a flimsy black fabric and looped five times around his torso, which was covered in nasty looking red welts.

"It's silver."

No shit Sherlock.

"Wrapped in silk."

Pregnant, pointless, pause.

"The absence of direct exposure doesn't affect the final outcome. Eventually he'll suffer the final death. There'll be not respite, only even stronger pain, then madness and oblivion."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Interesting."

Sophie Anne blinked. Whatever response she'd been expecting from me, this wasn't it.

I couldn't help, but wonder what had Hadley told her about me. I mean, sure, it hurt me to see Bill like this. It would hurt me to see anyone like this, let alone someone I'd mistakenly counted among my loved ones. But whatever had possessed her to think that I'd trade my life and liberty for his? He'd lied, cheated and used me like chew toy. He'd let me be beaten to a bloody pulp even thought I'd just risked my own to save his sorry ass. And why? Because he was too lazy to buy me flowers. Or was it because I'd saved his sorry ass and laughed at him? Because I'd bruised his ego?

Sophia Anne tried a different approach.

"But I'm inclined to pardon Compton, even offer him a promotion. It would enable his return to Bon Temps. How would you feel about that?"

Was this supposed to be the carrot or the stick?

"Surely he'd prefer to remain within your immediate vicinity, my Queen."

Polite, frozen, silence reigned once more.

"If you see Hadley, tell her that I bear her no ill will. She's free to return to New Orleans. It'll be as if nothing happened.", Sophie Anne muttered eventually, looking more like a bedraggled crow than a beautiful vampire Queen.

"You're too kind.", I almost sneered. Sure, I'd pass on her message. When iceskating in hell.

Bill stayed behind, not bothering to button his shirt and blazer. Manipulative bastard. When I reached for the door handle, his fingers closed on my wrist. To my horror I felt my eyes well up with tears.

"Sookie.", he pleaded quietly.

God, I hated this. My body and, to some extent, my heart hadn't had the much needed time and space to reach the same conclusions as my brain. His hurt felt like a stab to my gut.

"Get your hands of her or loose them.", Pam growled: "That's your options."

God bless her cold, non existent, heart.

"Afraid that she'll run away if you let her of the leash, whore?", he hissed, but remembered to remove his hand. He added, addressing me in paternal tones: "You don't have to do this. I'll protect you."

I laughed until I almost cried. I mean, really!

His face fell. I turned to leave, then paused. Our gazes locked, I said: "I choose Eric because he's the better man. Even if he was chained up in silver and at the mercy of a delusional monarch, I'd still choose him. Not you."

And I meant it.

* * *

><p>"Well, that was amusing.", said Pam flatly. The idiot had tried to grab my arm, which had earned him a punch in the unmentionables courtesy of my... vampire sister in law? At present she was banging Bill's head against a concrete wall. I shrugged off any lingering sense of unease, the words "I am vampire" echoing in my mind. He'd heal.<p>

"Pam, the Queen is asking for her errant lam. Playtime is over.", Eric said, stepping through the door. Bill exited the office head first, propelled by a series of kick to his backside administered by Pam. Eric put his hands on my shoulders and gave my body a quick once-over, checking for nonexistent signs of physical trauma.

"Are you all right?"

Translation: Do you want to talk about it?

"I'm okay"

Translation: Not right now.

Actually I was better than okay. I felt as if I was floating. I'd confronted Bill without falling apart. It stung, but I was still here: Chipped, not broken.

"We've got to get back out there."

Eric sounded more than a tad reluctant.

"Thank you.", I said.

"For what?", he asked gently.

"For swimming up shit creek to hand me a paddle."

Eric smirked.

"You're worth it."

That earned him a kiss on the cheek.

"So, can I depend on you to dance with me and get me uproariously drunk?"

That was the beauty of an all supe crowd. Compromising my shields didn't equal an instant migraine.

"I am nothing if not dependable."

His smile was the very definition of wicked. _Oh boy._

* * *

><p>I was on my third drink when the music and the lights died. A single spotlight switched on, illuminating the dais. The Queen was sitting on Eric's throne, wearing a gaudy tiara. Bill was by her side. Something about his stance made me suspect that he was no longer wearing the silver chain. Dread pooled in my stomach.<p>

"Ladies and gentlemen, you are privileged to witness the announcement of a royal edict.", intoned Genii Pants. All voices were silenced hereby. Tipsy Me thought that Genii Pants needed a big ass brass gong to complete the look. The remains of my sober self were telling Tipsy Me to shut up and focus. This was important.

"These are difficult times. Great expectations are imposed on our person."

Death might not be an concern for filthy rich vampires, but taxes were.

"They extend to our faithful subjects, especially those in our employ."

Yeah, Uncle Sam made you guys deal drugs! It wasn't Ginger Pubes, your solemn leader.

"For this very reason, we've decided to strip Eric Northman of his powers and responsibilities. As a thank you for past services rendered to our Queendom and royal person. The position as Sheriff of Area Five is hereby transferred to William T. Compton."

* * *

><p><strong>From Shreveport to Bon Temps<strong>

Pam's POV.

"What a bitch!"

"You're preaching to the choir, Sweetheart.", I said, struggling not to break the steering wheel. I wanted to tear the Sophie Anne's tongue out and play Grids with her eyeballs. Only, Eric had made me promise that I'd get Sookie safely back home, so here I was: Playing the part of designated driver.

"Pam, do you think that Bill lied to her? Let her believe that my blood would allow her to day-walk, to save his own skin?"

Interesting question.

"Maybe, but I doubt it. Sophie Anne is an useless cunt, but she employs very talented torturers."

"Then why? I just don't get it."

She was disappointingly naive.

"Adopt the mindset of an angling politician and an incompetent business woman.", I said.

"Why not just glamour people?"

Not that naive.

"It's messy. Best done one on one. Not really that compatible with main-streaming. Meanwhile, for her, it's turned into a childish game of tug-a-war. Sophia Anne has an obsessive streak a mile wide. It's not uncommon in vampire royalty. Only she's too self-indulgent to temper it."

"How did she ever get to be queen?"

Sookie's tone of voice revealed a sense of exasperation that rivalled my own.

"The Authority put her on the throne. They offered Eric the job, but he didn't want it."

"Why not?"

Frustration instantaneously gave way to curiosity. I smirked. Whatever was going on between my maker and this delicious mortal morsel, it was definitely not a case of one-sided interest.

"It's all paper work and political bullshit. And you can kiss any hope of privacy goodbye. Besides, he'd be indebted to the authority. Eric only values power only insofar as it secures his freedom."

Tact was never my strong suit.

"This isn't about you, Cupcake. Not exclusively.", I reminded her: "For one thing, Eric threatened to rip off Sophie Anne's head and throw it in the pool. They've got issues."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"If you guys refuse to obey Bill's asinine orders, what happens?"

"Nothing. Russell Edgington have surviving children. Sophie Anne needed our co-operation to substantiate her claim on his estate. Lying to the Authority's high council is a no no. If we recant, she's toast."

"So it's an assured mutual destruction kinda deal?"

"Exactly."

Thoughtful silence.

"And you're sure that she's not suicidal?"

"Yes."

More thoughtful silence.

"Does she really think keeping Bill around is going to endear her to me?"

"No, but it'll piss of Eric."

"And make me second guess my decisions.", she said in small voice.

"Why?", I asked sharply. Surely, Sookie couldn't that foolish? With everything that'd happened she couldn't prefer Bill to Eric. That was an impossibility. Even within the many-worlds of quantum physics. Her eyes remained fixed on the passing darkness.

"I've should've know better. I'm a goddam telepath."

She bit her lip, only just staving off the waterworks. Oh, hell.

"I'm only going to say this once, so perk up those dainty ears of yours, Goldilocks. Compton is a professional procurer. I know how they work. Eric found me in a brothel. Trust me, brighter and more cynical women than you have fallen prey to his sleazy bag of mind tricks."

Stunned silence

"Pointless regret is a waste of time. Look back. Try to pinpoint the signs you missed. Identify the levers he pulled. Try to learn something from that god awful experience. But don't blame yourself. Blame Bill. Even better, get even!"

Sookie was eyeing me with a strange mixture of awe, amusement and terror. I caught my reflection in the rear-view mirror. My fangs were out and my eyes were wide and gleaming, just short of glowing. There was definitely a feral quality to my appearance.

"I'm beginning to see why Eric picked you as his second."

I gave her a leer and a wink.

"He's got great taste."

* * *

><p><strong>After The Wedding<strong>

Sookie's POV.

Pam made sure that I was safely inside my house before she left. She'd been surprisingly supportive in her own scary way. Still, I worried.

It was a post Russell Edgington Era. The Authority's High Council, once merely a body of civil servants, who'd negotiate on behalf of monarchs in the time between summits, was more powerful than ever. Think Judge Dread; judge, jury and executioner, but with a preference for delegation. Any potential PR mishap, regardless of whether the individual vampire in question was to blame, was punishable by final death. That is, if your local sheriff didn't have your back.

Being perpetually stuck in damage control mode, Pam and Eric had a zero tolerance politic when dealing with the hotheads and the just plain warped, but vampires didn't get set up by religious fanatics or extortioners in Area Five. If everything else failed, which it extremely rarely did, they'd plead on your behalf and make sure that you got a decent head start. Reading between the lines, I knew that nepotism wasn't an issue. Equal treatment was a point of pride.

Bill, even on his best behavior, was a poor fit for the job. He was far too sentimental and he had a chip on his shoulder the size of Colorado.

I put on a pair of white and pink pyjama pants and a pink tank top and retrieved an pillow, a sheet and a comforter from the linen closet. While the night was warm and humid, the air in the cubby was pleasantly cool and dry.

* * *

><p>Eric's POV.<p>

Text message from Pam. It read: 'Need any help tucking her in?'

"You'll hand over all registers to Bill within 24 hours.", Sophie Anne demanded. I was sitting across from her and Compton in a both at Fangtasia. Everyone else had left. Except Nan Flanagan. And Nan Flanagan's guards. And the Queen's guards. There was an awful lot of guards.

"That won't be a problem. It's all been digitized."

The absolute minimum of information such as official addresses, none of which housed the daytime resting place of any vampires residing within my Area. Keeping that secret was second nature for any self-respecting vampire bereft of suicidal tendencies. Of course I'd find out where they slept, but I'd never commit the knowledge to anything more substantial than memory. Mine and Pam's in particular.

'C wants the files. Be at F at 8', I typed.

"Pam will effect the transfer tomorrow night at Fangtasia."

"Which will serve as Bill's temporary base of operations.", the Queen droned on.

"Of course", I said, my smile only slightly strained: "I got a builder who owes me a favor. He'll get you the materials at cost. Within a week or two your ancestral home should be up to snuff. Or parts of it at least."

"Thank you.", Bill said stiffly.

"I expect to be reimbursed."

"Of course".

If not for that fact that this power hungry little dork would be ruling my area, his expression of constipated anger would've been funny. I decided to change the subject. Eyeing Sophie Anne, I said: "If you, Compton or any of your goons are sighed on my wife's land, I will stake you myself."

If she doesn't shoot you first.

"I am your Queen!", she hissed.

I got up to leave, buttoning my suit jacket.

"Indeed, that's why I'm giving you and yours the benefit of a warning. I won't have my wife harassed."

"That seems reasonable.", Nan interjected. She was sitting at the next table, checking her messages.

I turned to leave.

"There'll be interviews.", she added.

No.

"There'll be one exclusive interview."

Nan sighed needlessly.

"Fine. They want 'undying love', not flash in a pan media tarts. I'll make the arrangements."

Bill puffed out his chest.

"Where can I find you?"

I bit back my anger. He knew where I'd be. Thanks to the several pints of blood, which he'd forced down Sookie's throat.

"I cannot say. We're going on a 'honeymoon'. It's a human custom. My wife has the casting vote."

I smiled at the thought, momentarily forgetting that I was surrounded by worthless scum.

"I need to know where-"

"Don't push your luck, Bill. You know his cell number", Nan interjected. She shot me a look of extreme disinterest.

"You're still here?"

No. I was hurtling through the night sky. Everything was forgotten but the thought of her.

* * *

><p>Sookie's POV.<p>

Waking up next to Eric was a strange, but pleasant experience. His presence was undeniable even when dead to the world. He also looked very nice, wearing nothing but blue silk boxers. Yes, I looked. I'm only human. Okay, part fairy, but you know what I mean. I also found myself reluctant to leave his side, which scared me. In less than a week he'd become... Well, I didn't love him. Mistaking lust for love. Been there. Done that. Bought the T-shirt. And I really needed to pee.

I tucked him in and headed to the bathroom. Having answered the call of my bladder, I brushed my teeth and took a shower. I put on a soft pink terry cloth robe and found myself sitting on my bed, starring at my wedding band and engagement ring. Mere trinkets. But Eric was dutifully wearing his. Coffee. I needed coffee. The fridge was empty, but the freezer was fully stocked as was the cabinets with non-perishables. There was a brand new coffee-maker. Way better than flowers. Surely, there'd be coffee, I reasoned as I checked the time on my new cellphone. It was half past five. I'd slept the best part of the day away. But coffee would have to wait. I sighed. A quick peek though the curtains confirmed what I already knew. Jason picked up on the second ring.

"Jase, there's two news vans and three cars blocking my driveway."

Which accounted for the 12 minds circling my house.

"You want them to leave?"

"Yes! And don't say anything about us being related. Or about me and Eric!"

"Geez Sookie, I'm not that stupid!"

Sometimes not saying anything is the best reply. To his credit, Jason didn't grumble when I asked him to stop by Merlotte's and pick up a large coffee, a burger and fries. I wasn't leaving my bedroom before I'd seen the back of those damn reporters. I put on a pair of low waisted, booth cut, dark wash jeans and a light, Cranberry red, v-neck sweater. I suspected that Eric had left Pam in charge of salvaging my wardrobe. There wasn't much of it's original content left. I didn't have it in me to gasp and look offended. Eric was what he was: A high handed bastard. And I had bigger fish to fry.

"Merlotte's. Arlene speaking."

"Hi, It's Sookie."

"Sam isn't here."

"Oh?", I said, feigning surprise.

"Yeah, he's left town last night. With that kid brother of his in tow. He left me and Terry in charge."

I smiled.

"You guys are the new owners?"

"Yes. But keep it to yourself. You know how people talk."

Better than anyone else.

"Sure. Congratulations."

"The same to you. I heard that you married some rich vampire."

"Thanks."

I bit my lip.

"I need some time off."

"I didn't know that you still worked here."

Ah.

"Is Jessica still working at Merlotte's?"

"Of course, she is stable. Shows up on time. Pulls her weight. Look Sookie, this aint personal-"

"I understand. Nothing personal. Bye now.", I interjected and cut the connection. I blinked away tears, feeling deflated. I'd lost the only job that I'd even remotely liked and deservedly so.

Jason arrived and herded away the journalists. It took some time. The food had gone cold when he handed me the bag. I thanked him and ate without bothering to reheat it. Having a full tummy made me feel better, but only fractionally. I needed a job. I needed the money. The coffee was still pleasantly lukewarm. I took a big sip.

"What's wrong?", Jason asked, looking very much like someone, who didn't really want to know.

"I got fired."

"Eric's gonna take care of you, right? I mean, you're married and all."

I bit back an angry reply. I was already far too dependent on Eric for my liking, but I didn't feel like discussing this particular issue with Jason.

"Bill is the new vampire sheriff."

"Oh shit!"

I quirked an eyebrow.

"I don't like the guy, but Eric is a good sheriff.", Jason said with an air of defensive determination: "Every time we've got problems with vampires, we give him a call and, well, they disappear. The problems that is."

My brother the cop. It was gonna take me a while to get used to the idea. He shoot the darkening sky outside a quick look.

"I'd better get moving. Give me a call when you get back from your honeymoon."

"Sure thing."

We hugged. He drove off. I threw away the food wrappers and washed my hands. I smiled grimly. A vampire was knocking on my back door.

It was Jessica. She'd braided her pretty red hair and was wearing her Merlotte's uniform. I felt a pang of jealousy. It had been somewhere to go and something to do. I'd uninvited everyone but Pam and Eric, so I had no qualms about opening the door. Mind, I made sure to stay out of arm's reach.

"Hi Jessica. It's good to see you."

It was. I'd always liked her.

"Hi Sookie.", she beamed. Her smile quickly faded. She extended her hands in the classic gesture of surrender, deviating somewhat from the norm by keeping her fingers crossed.

"I'm not here as Bill's emissary", she flatly intoned: "I just felt like telling you how much Bill suffered at the hands of the queen and how he did it all for you. That he knows that he was in the wrong. That's he's been trying to make up for it ever since he realized that he loved you. That he doesn't blame you for feeling like you do. That you're his miracle and he'll do whatever it takes to protect you from the Queen and Eric, who is a ruthless opportunist that you can't trust. All you have to do is ask."

Life hadn't been kind to Jessica. Her mother was a doormat and her father was a abusive bible thumper. Then she'd been made a vampire against her will at seventeen and saddled with Bill as a maker. I admired her resilience.

"How are you doing?", I asked.

"Good, I'm living in town. In one of Sam's apartments. It's not much, but its home. Pam's been giving me pointers on how to get by as a vampire."

Interesting.

"Are you still with Hoyt?", I asked.

"No. He's sweet, but I...I didn't like the person I was when I was with him."

I nodded.

"I saw you yesterday at Fangtasia. I loved your dress. You looked really beautiful. Marriage suits you.", she blurted.

I blushed.

"Thank you."

"I hope that we can still be friends. Despite it all. I've missed you."

"Me too. It's just... complicated.", I murmured.

We exchanged knowing looks.

"So you must be thrilled about Bill being made Sheriff", I teased.

She rolled her eyes.

"Yes. It doesn't promote his overbearing, patronizing, git tendencies. At all. He's a perfect fit for the job."

I grinned.

"Well, I'd never ask you to keep an eye on him and tattle to Pam."

She nodded, her smile mirroring my own.

"Of course not. Because I'd never spy on my maker."

* * *

><p>"What's wrong?", Eric asked, pulling me to him. I'd just said goodbye to Jessica and locked the door. "Just" was a somewhat relative term: I had no idea how long I'd been standing there, memorizing the wood grain. Eric was fresh from the shower, his hair still wet. He was wearing a pair of snug jeans, a fitted black t-shirt, his wedding ring and a expression of genuine concern. The overall effect was that of a wreaking ball on the walls surrounding my tender heart.<p>

"Bill is an asshole! I lost my job! And you threw away my clothes!", I blurted.

He frowned.

"Have you checked the attic?"

"No."

"There should be three boxes labelled clothing."

Oh.

"It's still weird, you know. Replacing your girlfriend's wardrobe."

He quirked an eyebrow. I blushed.

"Does that make me your boyfriend?"

I buried my face in his shirt. Mortified.

"I'm more than a 1000 years old."

His tone was playful.

"I know", I said, giving his lovely ass a quick squeeze: "Old as dirt."

He dropped a soft kiss on my temple and yet another on my cheek.

"Are you all-right?", I asked.

"Yes."

Sensing my disbelief, he added: "Displeased and angry, but happy in my decision. "

That smile was going to be my undoing.

"I'd like you to work at Fangtasia."

I froze.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?"

He tilted my chin so that I'd look him in the eye. I squirmed.

"There's oh so many reasons."

He looked at me expectantly.

"It's your favourite hook up spot."

"Was. Past tense. Irrespective of whether you accept or refuse the job offer."

My heart skipped a beat.

"Which means that I'm going to be extremely unpopular with the regulars."

He looked thoughtful.

"We need fresh meat"

Huh?

"Due to my demotion, the vampires of Area Five won't be obligated to put in any time at the bar. We'll hire half a dozen pretty newbies. I'll soon be yesterday's news.", Eric added in the way of explanation.

"I doubt it. Anyway, I'd always be the boss's wife to the other waitresses."

He shrugged.

"I was thinking something along the lines of a human resource manager and PR consultant that'll occasionally help out behind the bar."

"You want to employ me as a telepath?"

"Yes. A handsomely paid one at that. With health insurance."

"I won't be a party to anything illegal. In any way."

"Agreed."

A beat.

"Can I sleep on it?"

He nodded.

"At present I need you to contact Lafayette's lover. We're in need of his expertise."

"Why?"

"The current situation is untenable. Your blood tie to Bill must be severed."

* * *

><p><strong>Spellbound<strong>

"It severs all magical connections between the human and the living dead, not a particular blood tie.", Jesus clarified. We were at Lafayette's place. The owner was sporting loungewear of the sparkly kind and a harassed expression. Meanwhile his boyfriend, the witch, seemed more excited than scared. He really had a thing for magic.

"Do it."

Eric's voice was flat, devoid of emotion. I, on the other hand, was quietly panicking. I didn't find Jesus' enthusiasm reassuring. Insofar as it was physically possible, I dragged Eric outside. Leaning on the porch rail, I said: "I want to talk to Lafayette. On my own."

He quirked an eyebrow.

"Just trust me on this, okay?"

He nodded.

* * *

><p>"Tara called to ask me whether you'd lost your friggin' mind.", Lafayette said.<p>

"What did you tell her?", I queried.

"Enough so that she'd stay in New Orleans. She has built herself a life there, studying magic. She's got a job and a nice girlfriend. She's happy. Only slightly pissed off."

Translation: 'Keep my cousin out of it whatever it might be.'

"Good. Tara's got a girlfriend?", I couldn't help, but ask.

"Her name is Willow."

"And Tara is a witch?"

"Yep, a natural according to Jesus."

"Life imitating art much?"

Lafayette laughed. He still thought of me as a friend. That meant a lot to me.

"Willow isn't a witch though."

I wrung my hands. Time to get down do business.

"Jesus seems awfully keen."

"It's the family business. Healing mostly."

"You trust him? With your life? With Tara's? I'm not threatening, just asking."

A beat.

"You care for him."

It was a statement. Not a question.

"Yes. Sorta. Despite myself. A lot."

There I said it. Or rambled it. While avoiding eye contact. Lafayette was purposefully thinking about what had happened in the basement, letting me see all the grisly details. It's at times like this that I worry that hanging out with vampires have made me morally complacent. What I saw was a quick, relatively painless, death, executed in a manner designed to freak out the beholder. Of course, I had the benefit of perspective, knowing that the default punishment for any person, vampire or human, caught selling V was final death.

"It could've been worse. Believe it or not, but you got off easy. The same goes for the vampire hating murderer.", I said, starring him down.

"Really?", Lafayette squeaked.

"He could've have opted for death by fire. An eye for an eye and all that jazz."

A lot of people was awful keen on that around these parts. Vampire and human. You didn't need to be a telepath to realize this. People weren't shy about it. All things considered, unless you'd killed his human family, Eric was fairly mellow.

"He tried it out on me. The spell. I'm fine and your Viking honey seems like the same old scary motherfucker.", Lafayette reassured me.

I sighed and closed my eyes, feeling strangely defeated. Don't ask me why.I wanted to be free of Bill. The very though of him tracking me gave me the hebie gebies. The fay weren't all bad. Claude sure as hell wasn't. There was also the health and safety of the fairy hybrids, who'd fallen prey to Mab's web of lies and delusions, to consider. A vampire had compromised their borders. The fairy Queen hadn't lied about that. His name was Bill and he'd admitted as much to me. Also, call me selfish, but I didn't feel like reliving the attack and subsequent coma.

Meanwhile, if you'd told me less than a week ago that there'd be no more weird dreams of Eric Northman, I would've been thrilled. Then again, admitting to the fact that I'd settled for a pompous, abusive, ass because I was sick and tired of being a 26 year old virgin, wouldn't have been in keeping with the Southern Belle persona that I'd adopted. Truth be told, Bill wasn't the only who'd indulged in a bit of playacting. I'd done a lot of stupid shit, acting on the urge to conform to type.

In any case, I didn't want Bill to use me as a means of pinpointing Eric's daytime resting place.

"Al-right, let's do this thing.", I murmured. Big hands cradled my face, caressing my skin oh so softly, bellying their innate strength.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine."

Eric's gruff voice hummed in my ears.

'Famous last words', my traitorous inner voice cooed.

* * *

><p>The living-room was drenched in the smell of incense, sweat and blood. The sound of chanting seemed to echo endlessly, trapped in a magically induced loop. I felt it the very moment, the spell hit: White-hot searing pain, worse than anything I'd ever experienced, shot through me. It felt as if something was tearing at the fabric of my very soul. Just when I felt as I couldn't take it any more - that I'd die or pass out - there was blinding, flash of white light.<p>

"Was that supposed to happen?", I queried. My stomach was turning. My legs felt like jelly.

"Hell no!", Lafayette murmured.

I scrambled to get to Eric, using touch as means to guide my momentum, while sight was on the fritz. There he was. I'd know that face anywhere. Only he felt oddly warm. His otherwise pale lips and cheeks had an unfamiliar rosy hue to them.

"Sookie?", he whispered, the air escaping from his lungs in a strangled hiss. I put my my ear to his chest. There it was, the tell-tale thump-thump: A heart beat. Oh Sugar!

* * *

><p><strong>The Honeymoon<strong>

His cell was ringing. Pam. Decision making time. I put my finger to his lips. Please don't say anything.

"Hi, it's Sookie. Eric's a bit preoccupied at the moment.", I murmured into the device.

"I'll bet he is. You need to call Bill. The idiot is about to launch a search party.", she drawled.

A beat.

That's it?

Click

Pam had crap phone manners. Quelle surprise! I felt strangely calm. Eric was human. Vulnerable. In shock. And within close proximity of two fully grown men, who had plenty of reasons to dislike him. Falling apart so wasn't an option.

One down, two to go.

"It's me."

"Thank god, you're alive! What happened? Where are you? What did he do to-"

"Bill", I interjected.

"Yes?"

He didn't even sound slightly winded from his rant. Clearly he was still 'vampire'.

"Go fuck yourself."

Hanging up on him wasn't going to loose its charm any time soon. Then I called Alcide. He'd be there in 45 minutes. We needed a car. Eric wouldn't be flying anywhere on his own steam. A car and secrecy.

"You've got eights days to figure out how to undo this. That's when we're supposed to be back from our honeymoon.", I spoke aloud to the room in general: "If not, Pam is going to be asking a lot of questions and you know how she is."

_And she won't be on a leash. Not any more._

* * *

><p>Alcide's presence seemed to prompt the re-emergence of Eric's usual take charge attitude, which, quite frankly, was an immense relief. I'd found the absence of same profoundly unsettling. He took a set up front, supplying Alcide with instructions as to the whereto. Judging by his attitude, you wouldn't think anything un-life changing had happened. Nothing could've moved me to revisit the back of that damn van, which left me literally wedged between him and Alcide. Eric was thinking in another language and, occasionally, singing. It was sorta beautiful. Meanwhile, I was mostly getting snarly red static on the Alcide channel, but there was the occasional thought. Some of them were very Sookie-centric. It wasn't offensive, not really, and once I might've been flattered, but at present it left me cold. Fifteen uncomfortable minutes into the drive to Baton Rouge, Eric pulled me onto his lap. He re-buckled his seatbelt and wrapped his strong arms around me. Against all odds, I felt warm. Protected. Safe.<p>

'Relax, dear one, I have you.'

The whisper was silent, but unmistakable. So I did just that. Without thinking. Something I'd thought was impossible so far: I disabled my mental shields, loosing myself in the embrace of a human man.

Five hours latter we pulled up at the Marriott. Eric checked us in, using the pseudonyms Mr. and Mrs. Aegirsson.

"I'll be right back.", I murmured and retraced my steeps through the foyer. The parking lot was rich in fancy cars, but devoid of life, which was hardly surprising given the late hour.

"What's up, Alcide?", I said, keeping my eyes on the lingering figure. His green eyes were almost glowing. I caught myself wondering about the state of the moon.

"You're sure about this? About him?", he asked.

"Yes", I said, feeling somewhat indignant and, once the subtext hit me, downright furious.

"Yes", I repeated, with my arms crossed and my eyes narrowing: "I'm sure about Eric. He's mine."

"I can smell your arousal."

Okay. That was just plain creepy.

"Your point being?"

"I should never have let you get back together with Bill. Not without a fight."

Some of his non Sookie-centric thoughts came into focus. Wait a goddamn minute...

"But you're with Debbie, right?"

The V-addict. The V-addicted cheater and torturer. The V-addicted cheater and torturer, who'd tried to kill yours truly. At least Alcide had the good sense to feel ashamed.

"She's clean. A different person. Feeling really sorry about what she did.", he said.

It took a lot out of me not to roll my eyes.

"Then be with Debbie. All in. A 100%. Don't be one of those guys."

Oh god, puppy dog eyes. Don't make me slap you.

"Just for the record.", I added: "It wouldn't have made any difference. I would've picked Eric."

Knowing what I did now, definitely.

Strained silence.

"Right. Of course. Take care Sookie.", he murmured, eventually, and kissed me on the cheek. I watched him walk away, mentally scratching my head. Feeling better than thou wasn't an option. I'd dated Bill Compton. Someone cleared his throat. I spun on my heels. Eric was glaring at me.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!", I exclaimed.

* * *

><p>"I hate feeling like this.", Eric murmured, finally breaking the tense silence. He was lying on top of the covers of the king-size bed: Eyes shut, barefoot and shirtless. Meanwhile, I'd stripped in the bathroom, put on a soft white terry cloth robe and taken advantage of the complimentary toothbrush and tooth paste. I took a seat next to him.<p>

"Like what?"

Jealous? Dependent on a woman? What?

"Helpless."

Oh

"I've got friends, but I've also made a lot of enemies."

Bill. Sophie Anne. Queen Mab. Just to name a few against which he'd be no match in his current state. It didn't matter that Eric was 6,5 feet tall and build like the comic book version of the ancient norse god of thunder. Comparatively speaking, he was as helpless as a kitten. A kitten who could be glamoured. I put my hand on his broad muscular chest, just above his beating heart.

"I won't let any-"

My determined words was cut short by a series of violent images. Eric jerked away from my touch as if it burned him. His eyes were now wide open, blazing blue.

I swallowed nervously. Suddenly my mouth felt as dry as the desert.

"The woman? She was-"

"My mother.", Eric clarified, confirming my initial suspicions.

"The baby?"

"My baby-sister."

Both dead. Mauled.

"I wasn't there. I was too busy fucking around."

Literally.

"My father, as he lay dying, made me promise to avenge their deaths."

I'd seen that too. And the dark figure, accompanied by rabid wolves.

"It wasn't your fault.", I assured him. Because it wasn't.

"I know. Russell had my family killed because my father denied him tribute. For a couple of goats.", Eric said.

Now if he'd only believe it...

Putting aside my own fear of rejection, I cuddled up next to Eric on the bed. He drew me even closer, hugging me to him. I closed my eyes. sighting with relief.

"What language is that?", I murmured.

"Old norse."

"It's pretty. Why aren't you freaking out about the whole mind-reading thing?"

Some questions you just have to ask. He laughed softly into my hair.

"I trust you not to judge me too harshly."

He flipped me onto my back.

"Besides, I'm an acquired taste."

He toyed casually with the belt of my robe. My breath caught in my throat.

Then his stomach growled.

* * *

><p>I'd ordered room service, but kept it pretty simple: Milk, a dozen of slices of white bread with honey, four soft-boiled eggs and a couple of apples. Then, on a whim, I'd added an banana. At present Eric Northman was eyeing the bright yellow thing with a look of apprehension.<p>

"You're supposed to peel it", I said, failing to suppress a giggle. I did just that and broke him off a piece. He chewed it gingerly and swallowed.

"What do you think?"

"Sweet, but the texture is sort of... spongy."

I hummed tunelessly, sucking the last remnants of honey off my fingers. Eric removed the tray, now bereft of anything edible, and left it outside the door. We'd both been really hungry. Despite Eric nearly choking on his toast, which had shook him up a bit. Nothing will reminding you that you're human quite like a minor near death experience caused by breakfast produce. When I looked up he was standing with his back to me, unbuttoning his jeans. Another important fact: He wasn't wearing any underwear. I starred, mouth slightly agape, at his pert, perfect, butt. Yes, I'd previously seen Eric's naked backside. However, I'd been trying not to look at the time. Really, really hard. Speaking of which, a different, but equally impressive part of his anatomy entered my field of vision. Then it hit me: A thought which had been lingering just on the edge of consciousness.

"Darn it all to heck!"

"What?"

Eric actually jumped. He was that startled by my outburst.

"I'm... You.. We're..."

I gesticulated madly.

"Doing pantomime?"

"Human!", I spat.

"Yes?"

Eric's eyebrows were in immediate danger of connecting with his hairline.

"Unless you've got a burning desire to procreate..."

Some things you can leave unsaid. His mouth shaped a silent 'oh'.

Yeah, 'oh', smart-ass!

He slumped on the bed next to me. An even scarier thought hit me.

"You don't, do ya?"

He shoot me a sideways glance, smiling softly.

"Quite frankly, the very notion strikes me as absurd."

As it would. Him being a 1000+ year old vampire experiencing a temporary setback to human status.

"I never paid it much thought. Not even when I was human. Only insofar as royalty needed heirs. Girls to marry off and a boy to inherit the lot. My wedding would've been engineered to ensure my political alliances and the acquisition of lands and goods. And a wife with childbearing hips and a solid gasp of home economics."

"Not exactly the stuff of romance."

He shrugged.

"Marrying for love only is a fairly new concept. Few seem to manage it even now."

That was a truth that I could readily vouch for in my capacity as a telepath. People negotiate their lives. All the time. Most of them, the good ones anyway, are just grateful that they've found someone they like: Someone to love.

"I guess that I might've fathered a few bastards, but I doubt it.", he added.

Ah. That would be the 'too busy fucking around bit'.

"In any case, they'd be accepted as part of the house hold. Mother and child. Well looked after. No muss, no fuss, as they say."

Seriously?

"Wouldn't it be awkward?", I squeaked. He didn't as much as blink.

"Sometimes."

"Eric."

"Yes, Sookie?"

"I don't share. Happily or otherwise."

He smiled. Panty-meltingly, is that a word? Well, it should be. Not that I was wearing any.

"Good. Neither do I it seems. Not you."

His expression turned sheepish.

"Do you have any burning desire to procreate?"

Immediately Hunter came to mind. His fear. His loneliness.

"No. I'm too much of a trouble magnet. Besides, telepathy seems to run in the family. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, least of all a kid of mine."

_Ours._

I felt an ache. It wasn't exclusively mine. That is, until Eric kissed me senseless. I was still gasping for breath as he pulled off my robe and upended the covers. His hands were big, strong and warm. Everywhere. Stroking. Teasing. His mouth left a hot trail of wet open-mouthed kisses down my body.

"What are you doing?", I murmured, suddenly nervous. Apparently that makes me ask needless rhetorical questions. Mind, no one had ever paid any close attention to the vein in my thigh. Despite early claims that it was a particular favourite of his. I felt rather than saw Eric's resulting smirk.

"Something I'd been dying to do since I first meet you.", he said, the sensation of expelled air making my hips buck in anticipation and my fingers tangle in his hair.

* * *

><p>'What the fuck?'<p>

"Bill?", I groaned, still half asleep.

"Yes.", Eric murmured.

I rubbed my eyes.

"What time is it?"

We'd fallen asleep, our naked bodies a mass of tangled limbs, at some point during the late afternoon. Apparently room service stocked condoms. If you had no shame and asked. Eric kissed my temple.

"It's just past midnight. Go back to sleep.", he urged, looking apologetic. I leaned on my elbow, my head in my hand, noticing the distance between us.

"What happened?", I asked.

"A vampire got caught feeding in an alley in Shreveport by fundamentalist white trash Christians. The donor was an accomplice of theirs and screamed bloody murder. Bill executed him on the dance floor at Fangtasia."

I leaned over Eric, but paused mid grab. His cellphone featured a picture of Bill. The bastard was wearing leather gloves and in the process of extracting a silver stake from an richly decorated jewellery box. To term the sight of my ex-whatever fondling his precious murder weapon absurd and disturbing would be the understatement of the century.

"We need to call Lafayette." I murmured eventually. Eric snaked an arm around my waist. He said: "They're visiting his lover's grandfather, looking for advice. The old man is proving difficult, requiring some sort of sacrifice."

_Yikes!_

"What does that mean?", I stuttered.

"That it'll be a while before they know anything worthwhile. At least 24 hours.", Eric said, showing me the message he'd gotten from Lafayette. He'd omitted no information of value. I relaxed into his embrace, marvelling at the fact that I'd had hours of exhaustive gourmet sex with Eric. An Eric with a beating heart. Warm. Breathing. Living. He was presently stroking my back.

"I thought this was impossible.", I whispered.

His brow knitted together.

"Us?"

"No. I just... I didn't think dating guys with a pulse was an option for me."

Eric stiffened. In a bad way.

"I do not like this talk of you dating other men."

"That's all you took away from that?", I snapped, instantaneously regretting it. Neither telepathy nor the ability to decipher ancient Norse was needed to know that Eric was freaking out.

All it took was a bit of empathy. His own body was turning on him, making it's long forgotten human demands known in equally mysterious ways. Meanwhile, my ex terrible had killed one of the very people Eric had sworn to protect. Sure, Eric had used the term "obligated by a mutually beneficial social contract", but that's what it boiled down to. I straddled his waist and kissed him, my lips tracing the outline of his cheekbones, the cleft in his chin, the dip in his neck... He was like a big cat. The tension left his body with a shiver.

"No. Not exclusively.", he murmured, cupping my face with his big hands: "Tell me why."

"I never managed to get past the first date. Their thoughts. Knowing what they wanted to do to me. Sexual stuff. It was... Felt very invasive. Overwhelming."

"Did you slap any of your unlucky suitors?"

I had to bite my lower lip to keep from laughing. Eric knew me all too well. How and when did that happen?

"Maybe."

"What changed?"

"My shields are a lot stronger and easier to maintain these days. That might be the deciding factor.", I guessed, then added: "The language barrier definitely makes a difference."

"Interesting.", he noted.

I flushed

"And you're very distracting. I...You sweep me away."

He was a sexual force of nature. There. I'd admitted as much.

Eric beamed. You could've bounced rocks of his pride. I rolled my eyes.

"I feel the same way about you.", Eric said, catching me completely off-guard by virtue of his absolute, undeniable, sincerity.

"Really?", I said eventually, grinning like the Cheshire cat, only bigger.

"I loose myself in you."

His soft smile. The inflection of his voice. His gaze upon me. Suddenly it was too much. Almost painful. I felt like crying. I didn't know any other means to to alleviate the ever increasing pressure within my chest. Thankfully, Eric distracted me with yet another toe-curling kiss. In addition to a 90 degree turn, which left us both resting on the mattress, but still facing each other. His expression grew serious. I'd seen that look on him before. Foreboding. That's the word. I realized just then that I would do just about anything to make it go away.

"Since my transformation, I've found myself remembering strange events and sensations. Dreaming about them. Reliving memories that I didn't know were mine to loose..."

Eric's voice faltered. He frowned, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Like repressed memories?"

It was a shot in the dark, but Eric's eyes brightened with relief.

"Yes. Something very much like that."

I wetted my dry lips and asked the much dreaded question: "What's the recurring theme?"

"Fairies."

Claudine's words ricocheted in my mind:_'We've used up nearly all our magic in our efforts to make the vampires forget about us.'_

Well, Eric wasn't a vampire any more, now was he?

I grabbed his hand.

"Fairies?", I said.

"Yes. We used to be at war. Vampires and fairies.", Eric said.

"Like pitch battles and stuff?"

"Not of the idiotic 'let's line up and move towards each other' variety, but something to that effect."

Translation: They'd ambushed each other at any given opportunity.

"There was killed ten times as many vampires as fairies. Eventually we did gain the upper hand, but then they disappeared. Sometime around the 12th century."

"What were they like? The fairies?"

I couldn't help it. The big bad was coming. I wanted to postpone its arrival. Besides, I really wanted to know the answer to this particular question.

"Magical. Beautiful. Devious. Vicious."

Pot meet Kettle.

"They're.. We're... Vampires used to be human. Whereas fairies are not of this world. They're unpredictable."

"So Bill was right? They're aliens?", I interjected.

Eric entertained the thought.

"Insofar as the term refers to humanoid creatures visiting from a parallel dimension. It was a prevalent theory within the vampire community that they feed off human emotion. That's its the source off their magic."

Well, that would explain why Mab and her people was 'harvesting' and doping their human kin.

"You don't under any circumstances ask a fairy for a favour."

A rule which Eric himself had failed to adhere to.

"You asked a fairy for a favour?", I prompted.

Eric wetted his lips. He was as pale as a vampire.

"Yes. Your great grandfather. His name is Nial Brigant. He's a prince. Very Powerful. One of the few fairies who've perfected the art of masking his scent."

The memorized version of him looked an awful lot like David Bowie. If David Bowie had pointy ears, long silver hair and an affinity for green silk.

"What did he ask in return?"

Dread pooled in my stomach.

"He hasn't asked me for anything. Yet."

Mad relief. Happiness. Apprehension. Then straight back to dread. My feelings were all over the place.

"How do you know? That he's my great grandfather?", I squeaked.

"I recognized Claudine. In retrospect."

Oh

"What was the favor?", I asked absent-mindedly.

Eric turned to lie on his back, averting his body and eyes from me. The knot in my stomach returned.

"That he'd kill Godric's maker.", Eric said.

I was getting the why straight from his head: Encapsulated in brief glimpses of memory; various combinations of sights, sounds and feelings, drawn together like pearls on a string.

"You don't have to talk about it.", I said. Our gazes locked.

"You already know everything you need to know."

It was statement of facts. Not a question. Still, I nodded. Appius' final death had been warranted by his actions. He'd treated Godric and Eric as they were his property: Things to be used and abused with abandon. In various ways. Sexually. This knowledge didn't change my perception of Eric. At least not insofar that it made me think badly of him. Only, seeing him reduced to a state of abject helplessness, was a painful experience. And a part of me, accustomed to rejection, was afraid that he'd resent me for it. For seeing him like that. Despite what we'd shared earlier.

"Do you mind if... Can I touch you?", I blurted eventually, breaking the strained silence.

"Of course.", Eric purred, smirking. Masking his own relief. I pulled the silly old thing on top of me, savouring the skin on skin contact and the feel of his weight on me. I felt safe. Protected. Warm.

"You are so beautiful.", I murmured.

"What's your favourite part?"

He didn't need to ask me twice.

"Your butt."

"My bottom?"

"Yep."

I gave it a good-natured smack.

"Do it again."

My jaw dropped. Eric laughed. Which led to other things: Playful, wonderful things.

* * *

><p>Four hours later...<p>

"Sookie."

Gentle hands shook me awake, but it was the sight of Eric; drawn and pale and fully clothed, that catapulted me back into a state of acute consciousness.

"What's wrong?"

"Pam is missing."

* * *

><p><strong>Dead Texts<strong>

From: Bill Compton

To: Eric Northman

Received: Aug 11, 2009, 3.42 AM.

'Problem at Fangtasia involving witches. Pam is missing'

* * *

><p>From: Jessica Hamby<p>

To: Eric Northman

Received: Aug 11, 2009, 3.46 AM.

'Snafu. Witch visits F, looking 4 da Sheriff of area 5. U. not B. says to P that 4 7 nights w/ u & 1/5 of F's profits, bfh & co won't fuck up ur bizz. prw so B drains bfh. P goes poof. tmb. J'

* * *

><p>From: Eric Northman<p>

To: Jessica Hamby

Sent: Aug 11, 2009, 3.47 AM.

'?'

* * *

><p>From: Jessica Hamby<p>

To: Eric Northman

Received: Aug 11, 2009, 4.51 AM.

'situation normal: all fucked up. Witch visits Fangtasia, looking for the Sheriff of Area Five. you. not Bill. says to Pam that for seven nights with you and one fifth of Fangtasia's profits, bitch from hell and company won't fuck up your business. people are watching so B drains bitch from hell. P goes poof. text me back. J'

* * *

><p>From: Eric Northman<p>

To: Bill Compton.

Sent: Aug 11, 2009, 3. 52 AM.

'Do nothing. I'll find P. Pass on my cellphone number if you're contacted by the adversary. Nothing else'

* * *

><p>From: Bill Compton<p>

To: Eric Northman

Received: Aug 11, 2009, 3.54 AM.

'As a resident of Area 5, P is entitled to my protection. Will instigate search'

XXXXXX

From: Eric Northman

To: Bill Compton.

Sent: Aug 11, 2009, 3. 55 AM.

'And get her staked. Nice try. Don't fuck with me'

* * *

><p>From: Bill Compton<p>

To: Eric Northman

Received: Aug 11, 2009, 3.56 AM.

'It's not your call'

* * *

><p><strong>Surprise, Surprise<strong>

Eric had friends: Very resourceful friends, who'd left a dark SUV with tinted windows, untraceable license plates and its keys still in the ignition in the hotel parking lot. The glove compartment was stocked with twin colt automatic pistols, ammunition and 5000 dollars in cash.

"Do you even know how to shoot a gun?", I asked incredulously, while examining its content. A brief smile grazed Eric's lips, momentarily dispelling the gloom.

"I was hoping that you'd teach me at some point. For now, you are the muscle."

His expression darkened once more. He added: "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes!", I countered, feeling more than a bit exasperated. We'd already had this discussion. Eric wanted me to seek out Godric's other child: Someone supposedly powerful enough to play the part of my protector and smart enough to properly value the services and, by extension, the health of a telepath. I, on the other hand, wanted to help him find Pam and keep him from getting killed in the process.

"We're not exactly buddies, but Pam is your family. You'd do the same for me.", I added. He scoffed.

"I'd be more likely to chain you up in the basement."

My eyes narrowed.

"Oh, I've thought about it. Handcuffing you to to the toilet that is. Would you prefer that?"

For a moment Eric looked completely and utterly astonished. It would've been comical if not for the fact that I was sorta pissed off. Then he smirked, fluttering his damn eyes lashes at me.

"I'd scream", he purred. I rolled my eyes.

"Which is why I'd gag you!", I interjected.

_Weirdo_

"Seriously, if you do anything like that ever again I'm gonna-"

"I won't. I promise.", Eric said.

I took his hand in my mine, deliberately seeking out skin on skin contact, as I suspended my mental shields.

"I won't. I promise", Eric repeated. There was no deceit nor rancour in him. In fact, he seemed oddly pleased that I was testing him. Proud. I shook my head, smiling.

"You find my promises amusing?", he inquired.

"No, It's just... You surprise me.", I said, tapping my forehead: "It's a rare quality in a breather."

* * *

><p>On the road, about four hours later...<p>

"Sookie?

"Tara?"

"Sookie!"

"Tara!"

"Are you all right?", I added, clutching Eric's cellphone to my ear.

"Yeah. How about you", she asked.

"It's a mixed bag of nuts.", I admitted.

Pregnant pause.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but how did you get this number?"

"Lafayette passed it on to me. "

_Uh-oh_

"He told me about your problem. The things is, it's impossible."

"What?"

"Turning a vampire human. Not deliberately. Least of all accidentally. It cannot be done."

"Says who?", I exclaimed, glancing at Eric: The living, breathing, contradiction.

"The Oracle. Ten years ago.", Tara replied.

"What's an Oracle?"

* * *

><p>Grave facts p.p Prof. John Hix's Encyclopaedia of Morten and Post-mortem Phenomena p. 197, line 9-10, and p.521, line 37-41:<p>

'Elucidated Hags of the Ebon Night, the. A secret sisterhood in New Orleans. Little about them is known, but that they record and publish the Prophecies of Pythia, i.e the Oracle.'

'Oracle, the. A 3000+ year old old female vampire. Alias Pythia. When human served briefly as the Oracle of Delphi. Unlike her predecessors and successors was in possession of a genuine psychic ability and an extreme tolerance vis-à-vis various hallucinogenic drugs. Poisoned, stoned and drowned by priests of Apollo. Suffered an unsuccessful transition insofar as she remains to this day bereft of a vampire's superhuman strength and agility. Her psychic ability, however, was greatly enhanced. Several vampire kings and queens have tried to avail themselves thereof, but unsuccessfully as evidenced by their final deaths.'

* * *

><p><strong>Search &amp; Rescue<strong>

Fangtasia at noon was deserted by humans and vampires alike. Eric changed his clothes and scoured the gift shop for a pair of girl boxers and a black singlet in my size, on top of which I wore my own jeans. Add to that clean socks and a purple sweatshirt courtesy of Pam's locker. Feeling in a slightly better mood on account of wearing clean underwear, I watched as Eric extracted a sleek silver laptop from a hidden safe in his office. Looking though last night security footage on said laptop while sitting at his desk, Eric concluded: "The dead witch was a V addict."

All I saw was a nervous looking pale twenty-something woman with auburn hair, who was wearing a black mini dress with cut-outs, black fishnet stockings and gloves and too much black eye-liner.

"How do you know?"

"Multiple involuntary muscle spasms. A deluded sense of confidence. It's common among long-time users. Also, she's looking at Bill's jugular, not his hands or his eyes. Funny how Bill forgot to mention that."

"Maybe Bill didn't connect the dots?", I said, taking a set next to Eric's computer.

"He'd have tasted it."

Any remnants of V in her system that is. When he'd torn out her throat with his teeth. I shivered.

"Now, let's try to get a fix on Pam's location...", Eric murmured, his stare fixed on the screen. Apparently he'd recently installed an 'app' that allowed him to track the whereabouts of her I-phone. When I'd aired my suspicion that his original intention had been to monitor the whereabouts of my I-phone, he'd admitted to it. With no hesitation whatsoever and a big smug grin on his big stupid beautiful face-

"Eric", I hissed, retrieving the gun from its hiding place at the small of my back: "Get in the bathroom and lock the door. Now!"

For whatever reason, be it my tone of voice or my facial expression, Eric readily obeyed my instructions, pausing only to snatch up his laptop. Once I heard the sound of the lock falling into place, I felt slightly calmer. I flexed my fingers and aimed at the door leading to the hallway. Two minds had just entered Fangtasia by the back door. Both had a familiar feel to them. One belonged to a quasi-regular human. The other belonged to a werewolf. And a strong broadcaster all things considered. Their immediate destination was at the forefront of her mind: Eric's office. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississip-

The door swung open, revealing the equally familiar sight of a gun toting Debbie Pelt.

Even with Eric's blood in my system, Debbie had superior reflexes. What saved me was instincts. Hers as much as my own. The very moment she saw me, she knew that the jig was up. I'd tell tell Alcide that she was off the wagon, concerting with V using witches and weres, and they'd be done. Only a werewolf's fist impulse is always to got for the throat, tooth and claw. Caught in a moment of indecision, her eyes glowing orange, I shot Debbie Pelt in the head.

* * *

><p>Down she came. Her gun fired as it hit the floor with a load clatter. Thankfully, the bullet lodged in Eric's couch rather than rebound and pierce living flesh. Debbie's companion, the waitress named Holly from Merlotte's, screamed. And screamed.<p>

Eric emerged from the bathroom like a bat out of hell, managing to catch me just as my knees buckled beneath me.

"Shut up!"

His voice was cold, downright frosty. Holly immediately quieted, seemingly unable to move. You'd think that he'd glamoured her. Eric propped me up in his office chair, placing it at an angle, where the desk shielded me from the sight of the remains. Then he was in my face, barking: "Don't you dare faint on me, Sookie Stackhouse!"

"Alright", I grumbled: "All right."

My lips were dry. Numb.

"Is she dead?"; I asked. Eric's retrieved Debbie's gun, placing it on the desk. For safekeeping, I assumed.

"Definitely.", he said.

Of course she was. I clamped my hand down on my mouth, suppressing a mad urge to laugh. Or sob. Maybe both. Eric took Holly by the shoulders. She whimpered. I felt like yelling at her. He wasn't hurting her. She was perfectly safe. God, Jesus Christ, what's wrong with me?

"You're in shock", Eric noted in a level voice, looking back at me over his shoulder. Holly was sitting on the couch. Eric was straddling a chair, his body facing her. Her eyes kept drifting to a specific point on the floor, just behind him. To Debbie's mutilated body. I'd killed someone.

"Close your eyes and focus on me.", Eric demanded. So I did just that. He was angry, but calm. Immovable. A rock.

* * *

><p>According to Holly, someone named Hallow and her followers had killed the leader of the Shreveport coven and her lieutenant, which explained why Octavia Fant and Amilia Broadway been a no show at our wedding. Hallow was a were and witch, hooked on V. Any members of the original Shreveport coven, who'd refused to join their ranks, had been put to death. Then they'd sought out the small town witches, bribing and threatening them in turn. Holly had sent her kids to her ex-husband's place, but they knew, where he lived.<p>

"Why do Hallow and Mark need you guys?", I asked. It was Eric, who answered my question. He said: "However skilled and naturally talented, the power of a single witch is very limited, whereas a coven allows them to yield the consolidated power of the collective."

Holly nodded mutely.

"The witch they sent to Fangtasia-"

"Casey", Holly murmured.

"Casey.", Eric repeated: "She was intended to serve the function of sacrificial lamb."

A statement of fact. Not a question. Nevertheless Holly nodded, adding: "They'd heard about the marriage, so they knew that you'd refuse the deal. Most likely loose your temper. What with you being a vampire and all."

So they'd booby trapped her. Also, Holly still thought that Eric was a vampire. Thankfully. I couldn't shoot her, not even if it was necessary to ensure our immediate survival. What with her being a former co-worker of mine, a mom and an innocent bystander.

"What are the effects of the spell?", Eric growled, looking every bit as scary as his former vampire self. Fangs make a poor substitute for pure undiluted fury.

"I don't know. Really, I don't-"

"She's telling the truth, Eric."

"All I know is that it was supposed to incapacitate the target. Somehow. Make you easier to catch. Once you were eliminated, they figured that the other vampires around these parts would be ripe for the picking.", Holly said, her hands extended in a gesture of surrender.

"They used to be dealing. Now they're just using.", Eric said. Again, no so much a question. Rather a statement of fact.

A beat.

"Why did you come here?", Eric asked: "Looking for addresses?"

Yep. Because they'd already searched my house. Bill's too. In both cases without the desired result.

At that point I decided to jump in the shower. The thing is, when you shoot someone in the head, even at a slight distance, blood and brain spatter is an issue. I scrubbed and scrubbed. Until familiar hands, undeniably big and male, took the soap from me and wrapped me in a big fluffy towel. Eric picked me up and when I opened my eyes, we were standing on the dance floor. In the very spot, where we'd been married less than 48 hours ago. It might as well have been a year. It sure felt like it.

I put on yet another pair of girl boxer-shorts and a singlet, both sporting the Fangtasia logo and topped it of with a black silk button down shirt. Eric's presumably. Once he'd rolled up the sleeves, it sorta worked. Like a mini dress. I'd have to make due without footwear though. Neither Pam nor any of the waitresses were my size. Eric gently combed my damp hair away from my face with his fingers.

"Where's Holly", I asked.

"Handcuffed to a toilet."

"What? Why?"

"It's a temporary precaution. To keep her pacified until Colonel Flood and his men show up. She can't disclose the location of Hallow's hide out. That option's been magicked away. But her testimony will serve to convince him that we need to join forces."

I took a deep breath. I had to ask the question. I owed her that much.

"What's going to happen to Debbie?"

"She was a errant member of the Shreveport pack. They'll claim the body and foot the cleaning bill."

"What about her family? Is she going to get a proper burial-"

"It's pack business."

His dismissive tone said it all. He didn't know nor did he care to know any of the fine details. I bit back an angry retort. Eric was more than a 1000 years old and he'd been a warrior even before he was a vampire. To me Debbie's death constituted a life-changing experience whereas, in his book, it barely merited a mention in the footnotes. It was understandable even if somewhat discouraging. Speaking of noteworthy events...

"Did you manage to get a fix on the location of Pam's phone?", I asked.

"Yes."

Eric's face was an unreadable mask.

"This is where we part."

"No!"

"Sookie. I can't stay. Being human, I've got no place here. You'll be safe with Flood and I can't leave Bill in charge."

Then it hit me.

"Are you out of your mind? They won't listen to me!"

"If it boils down to a choice between Bill and my human proxy, they'll listen."

Maybe. And maybe I'm related to Big Foot.

"You're trying to get rid off me."

No reply.

"What are you planning?"

No reply.

"Where is Pam's phone?"

Eric sighed.

"Somewhere in the cemetery, next to your house."

The penny finally dropped.

"You think that she's finally dead?", I asked.

"Knowing her aversion to sleeping in the naked earth, yes. Bill, on the other hand, have a perverse preference for visiting with his long lost relatives."

I shivered. At thought of a grey hand shooting through the muddy soil, grabbing my ankle...

"I made some calls before leaving Baton Rouge. He's not spending the day with any of the vampires in the area. And he hasn't checked in at any of the vampire friendly hotels-"

"And that's why you going to kill Bill? You think that he's responsible, somehow, for whatever happened to Pam?", I interjected.

Eric shrugged. He had plenty of reasons.

"He's got form. And nothing rallies your reluctant troops like a common enemy. Averting the reign of the evil witches would solidify his position as sheriff. It's a stupid plan. But..."

That had never stopped Bill. In fact, it had Bill written all over it. Eric had clearly been the intended victim of the spell. With him gone, I'd need to petition Bill to stay in Bon Temps. He'd be there to comfort me and in time my legs would magically uncross for him. Or so he'd reckon, given the grossly inflated state of his ego. Not realizing that I'd rather eat glass.

"In any case, you're not safe around Bill. They'll be a mystery shooter. Something that necessitates another blood transfusion. I'm not risking that. And they'll definitely listen to you if Bill is a no show.", Eric concluded, somehow managing to look smug and sad at the same time.

I crossed my arms. Eric eyed me wearily.

"Whatever. You're not going anywhere without me."

* * *

><p>"Between the testimony of Holly Cleary and the police reports of what've been found at the Magic Shop, I'm inclined to believe your account of this unfortunate event. Your skill as a telepath is known to us and Debbie had a troubled past. I deem her death at your hands tantamount to a an act of self defence. Justifiable. It nullifies the blood offence."<p>

Colonel Flood looked weary, but his tone of voice was that of an authority: Someone announcing a final sentence: A statement of unquestionable fact. Given the circumstances I was impressed by his level-headedness and impartiality. I was also hugely relived. Being innocent didn't mean that I had nothing to fear. The collective mood of the pack assembled at Fangtasia was characterised by a feeling of seething resentment. Debbie had been surprisingly well-liked and their search for Sam was proving unsuccessful. They were scared and angry. Out for revenge. I could feel Alcide's gaze on me. I was doing my best to stay out his head. I had no desire to know it's content. Meanwhile, I was fighting the urge to pace the floor. Precious daytime was a wastin.

"I'll leave you then. Is there any messages that you'd like me to pass on to my husband?", I asked, my eyes locked with Colonel Flood's.

"You may reaffirm the packs commitment to co-operate with the vampires vis à vis the witches, be it under the leadership of present or the previous Sheriff of Area Five."

I. e. not their human representatives, which was fine by me. I had no desire to play the part of Eric's lieutenant. God, I missed Pam. I very much hoped that Eric was in the wrong on that account - that she was still, lacking a more fitting term, alive. I nodded, adding: "He'll be in touch. Goodbye."

I turned on my heel, heading straight for the exit. Keeping my mental shields in place, doing my best to repel the flood of hostile thoughts directed towards my person, I kept my gaze fixed on my bare feet as they hit the wood, linoleum and then asphalt beneath them. The feel of the late afternoon sun on my face after the hours I'd spent in the badly lit darkness of the windowless bar, was downright glorious.

These boots are made for walking/ so that's just what I'll do/ One of these days-

A strong hand, warmer than average, locked on my wrist. Painfully hard. Alcide. His green eyes were glowing.

"Why did you do it?", he asked.

"You're hurting me.", I spat through gritted ignored this, the pressure of his grip intensifying.

"Why?", he insisted.

"Because she'd killed me. Dead. You know better than anyone else what Debbie was capable off.", I hissed.

"Alcide."

It was a woman's voice. Laced with warning. Belonging to a female twenty something were: Dark and pretty: Going by the name Maria Star.

Alcide instantaneously released me, looking profoundly apologetic. I ignored him. Sure, Alcide thought that he'd loved Debbie, but he'd never trusted her. Hence the lack of long term plans. And for good reason. She wasn't trustworthy. Or maybe he was just the kinda guy, who'd always have potential replacements lined up. In any case, I had better things to do than listen to his worthless excuses for bruising me. Thankfully, he didn't follow me.

I got into the car, slamming the door shut. Eric was sitting in passenger seat. Sleeping. Even now, he looked tired and worried. He'd also grown some truly impressive stubble. I rested my head on the steering wheel, taking a moment to appreciate the irony of it all: I'd finally found a human guy, who wanted me and whose company wasn't merely bearable, but highly enjoyable, yet I found myself wanting a vampire - the vampire he'd been. Eric liked being a vampire. It suited him.

* * *

><p>"It's not that bad. A bit of graffiti and some broken furniture. Nothing that can't mended.", Eric said, handing me a pair of denim shorts, a red T-shirt, socks and sneakers. I hadn't had it in me to view the damage wrought on my ancestral home by a pack of rampaging witches, so he'd picked out my clothes. I unbuttoned my borrowed shirt, leaning against the hood of the car. Eric watched the process with an expression of piqued interest. His blazing blue eyes widened in surprise as I hooked my fingers in his belt, pulling his body flush against mine.<p>

"We don't have much time", he murmured in between searing kisses.

"I know.", I said.

His pants hit the gravel with a muffled 'clink'.

* * *

><p>Nial's POV.<p>

I watched them from the tree line, pleasantly surprised by the girl's joie de vivre and opportunistic spirit. She was a true fay. The Northman was as I remembered him, only no longer a dead thing and enamoured. I retreated to the grave yard, allowing them a small measure of privacy. Humans appreciated such trivialities. They'd come to me. Specifically an half hour later, fully dressed, holding hands and carrying respectively a shovel and a silver net. I made my presence known to them as they approached Adele's grave, snapping my fingers. The viking doubled over in the moist grass, clasped in the embrace of Morpheus. I only just managed to evade the lance of white energy extended from the hands of my kin. Her eyes turned golden. She was truly an impressive creature.

* * *

><p>Sookie's POV<p>

"What the hell did you do to him", I exclaimed, kneeling by Eric. His pulse was strong and steady.

"Do not worry", said the elvish David Bowie look-a-like: "He is sleeping."

Eric snored, confirming the truthfulness of that statement.

"And he'll stay asleep until I dictate otherwise.", he added. Nial was sitting cross-legged in the grass. He looked exactly like Eric remembered him. Excepting the clothes. For some strange reason that I'd prefer remain unknown, he was wearing a tweed suit and a fez.

"What do you want?", I asked, staring him down.

"All I want is a conversation.", he smoothly replied.

"Really?"

"Yes."

Glare.

"Concerning your viking lover."

Glare.

Nial smiled.

I sighed.

"You turned him human, right?"

"No, blood of my blood, you did."

* * *

><p>"What? No!...How?", I sputtered.<p>

Nail smiled - looking every bit like a punchable version of Yoda.

"One should never underestimate the power of a subconscious wish."

"But I never wanted a human Eric!"

"True. But you believed that the spell require that your sever all ties with the undead. So you changed his...classification."

_Oh_

"But how is that even possible? What am I, like an eight part fairy?"

"You were 1/8 fairy part."

"What?", I squeaked

"You didn't not reap les fruits de lumiere, but you drank the water..."

_Oh sugar!_

The glint in his eye revealed the predator hidden beneath the ridicules attire.

"What do you want?"

I was saying that an awful lot lately.

"To be helpful."

Glare.

"He is of no use to me in his present incarnation.", Nial said, eyeing Eric. Only now did I notice that I was cradling his head in my lap, stroking his hair. My great-grandfather extracted a small round object from one of his many pockets and dropped it into the palm of my right hand. It was a creamy light green, trimmed in gold. It reminded me of the snuffboxes you find at antiques stores. Only there was no catch nor hinge.

"This the cluviel d'or. A fairy love token. My gift to you."

A beat. Nial sighed. Apparently I wasn't suitably impressed.

"It contains a powerful magic spell that grants the recipient one wish. Only it must be made so to benefit a loved one. Personally."

"Can I use it to turn Eric back into a vampire?", I asked.

"Not the vampire you knew. What you've done cannot be undone. It can only be made so that it never happened."

Huh?

"You go back in time.", he clarified.

"And do what? Persuade Eric that letting Jesus do the spell is a really bad idea?"

"No. You see it through, knowing that bond you two share cannot be dissolved by the means of magic."

Cryptic much?

Noting my confusion, Nial added: "While love can be a source of magic, it cannot be evoked nor eliminated by magical means."

Now, wait just a goddamn minute..

"But I was with Bill. I loved Bill. Eric and I. It only just happened.", I insisted.

Nial chuckled.

"You're present in each other's dreams. You know each other's innermost desires first-hand."

That's when it dawned on me.

"So, the Eric I was dreaming about was the actual Eric? Not just a V induced figment of my imagination? Since Dallas we've been..."

I cringed.

"Mind-fucking?"

"Yes", Nial said. Completely and utterly unfazed.

Jesus Christ! Shepherd of Judea!

Eventually I recovered sufficiently to ask: "Is dream sharing a fairy or a vampire thing?"

"It's fairy magic. It presupposes the presence of consent. He let you in."

Definitely food for though. At some point in the future.

"What's the catch. What do you want in return?"

Nial's smile instantaneously faded.

"The is no catch. The Cluviel D'or is a love token. It cannot be used as a means of payment. "

Hmm...

"What is is that you want from Eric?", I asked.

Nial rose to his feet. He winked.

"Now that would be invaluable information."

I sighed. Then, determined not to waste any more time fretting, I twisted the lid of the Cluviel D'or, breaking open the small container.

There wasn't any rushing blue tunnels nor flashes. The sun didn't shoot round and round the sky. Pages didn't tear of a calendar to flutter away. I closed my eyes in the present that was the future. Then I opened my eyes in the present, which was the past. Linking the two points in time was nothing, but the memory of darkness. I was in Lafayette's living room, sitting on the floor straight across from Eric. Separating us was bowl of burning incense.I crossed the divide in one easy step, literally dropping into his lap. I wrapped my arms around him a and nestled my face in the thin cotton fabric, that covered the broad expanse of his muscular chest. There he was: Not breathing. Without a heartbeat. Probably paler. Somewhat cooler to the touch. No thoughts. Not exactly a void. Yet unreadable. Quiet. Vampire. Undeniably Eric. I relaxed against him, feeling profoundly happy and relived. He was still him, only more so. For now that was all that mattered.

* * *

><p><strong>Snap Shoots<strong>

Eric's POV.

"Why is she hugging me?"

The 'she' in question was Sookie Stackhouse: My wife: Soon to be lover: Time traveler: Great grand child of Nial, the sorcerer, who was actually a fairy prince. Pam was terrified and just a little bit turned on by her display of affection.

"And why is she leaking?", she added. My child disliked crying women. Well, crying people in general.

"I'm just happy to see you. Undead and kicking", Sookie murmured. Pam awkwardly patted the top of her head, glaring daggers at me. Somehow I resisted the urge to laugh.

"It's a long story. For now, all you need to know, is that V-using witches are targeting Area Five and that you're meeting the health and safety inspector at Fangtasia in an hour. Apparently, bribing him to close down your place of business is a foreign concept to him.", I said, gently extracting Sookie from Pam's grip. Really, even if Sookie was willfully blind to the fact, Pam was rubbing up against her at this point. Pam quirked a brow, clearly amused by my display of thinly veiled jealousy.

"You want Fangtasia closed down?"

"Yes. For the next three days."

Said statement paired with a look that held the promise that I'd tell her everything later, resulted in Pam's prompt exit from the Stackhouse family home. Then Sookie disappeared into the kitchen for a spell, leaving me alone in the living room, lost in thought. Mostly of Sookie Stackhouse. Not bloodthirsty witches targeting yours truly.

"Eric"

Her voice cut through my mental meanderings. I blinked. My jaw fell. Sookie was within arms reach of me and wearing nothing, but a flimsy excuse for a silky robe. I breathed in her scent. It was sweet. Heady with desire. Overwhelming. She stepped even closer, tilting my chin, so that I'd look her in the eye.

"We need to reestablish the blood tie."

_Oh_

"There's alternatives."

I ached to do just that; to give her my blood, but I wanted her to desire the intimacy of the connection. At least partially as much as I did. Not merely accept it as an unpleasant inevitability. Any chance of the former happening presupposed the presence of options. Plural.

"It's too risky. What if I loose my iPhone?"

"Oh, so you know about-..."

"The computer in your safe, that allows you to trace its whereabouts?".

Thankfully, she was smiling. Albeit smugly.I recovered, countering: "There's a surgical solution."

Her jaw dropped.

"You're gonna chip me? Like a cat?"

"Not exactly.", I chuckled. Her expression darkened.

"Good. 'Cause I am quite attached to my ears.", she said, prompting visions of kidnappers playing amateur surgeons. Most likely in the back of a badly lit van. I quickly added:

"You're right. That's a horrible idea."

I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her temple, feeling slightly better for her close proximity. Caring for someone that was easily breakable and with a limited life span was unfamiliar territory. Very unsettling. Her hands cupped my face. Her fingers tangled in my hair. She brushed her lips, oh so soft, against mine. I closed my eyes, loosing myself in the moment. Her exquisite taste. Her delicious scent. Her velvety skin. The heat radiating from it. She kissed my upper-lip and then my lower-lip, gently nudging them apart to allow her warm tongue to caress mine. Eventually we broke apart. Her breathing still ragged, she said: "I want to do this."

I grinned. Like an idiot. I couldn't help it. My undead heart soared.

"Where?"

I barely recognised my own voice.

"In my room."

I scooped her up and dumped her on the bed, pausing only to draw back the cowers. Then I kicked off my shoes and socks and pulled off my shirt. Meanwhile, Sookie was eyeing the process with intense interest.

"You're keeping your pants on?", she asked. Incredulously. If I was human I'd be blushing at this point.

"It's all that I'm wearing.", I clarified. She bit her lip, adding: "I know."

* * *

><p>Sookie's POV.<p>

"You need to stay out off it.", Eric said, obliterating my post coital daze.

"Why?", I asked, turning onto my side to face him. I was thoroughly exhausted. Going three rounds with Eric would do that to a girl. His stamina was impressive to say the least and, in vampire form, he hardly needed any recovery time. Yet I wasn't sore. In fact, I felt like the very paragon of health and vitality. Eric's blood was awesome.

He chuckled.

"Because it's vampire shit."

Which I'd declared it my firm intention to stay clear off. Repeatedly.

"I can just sit around and do nothing.", I insisted.

His head rested in his hand, propped up on its elbow.

"You won't. Only during the day. Where you'd be followed by reporters and alert the witches that we're aware of their presence in my area."

I scowled.

"Inadvertently", he added. Smug smooth-talking point having bastard. I grabbed his arm, pulling him close, and nestled my nose in the small dip in his neck. Really, I was hard set to tell the difference. Whether human or vampire, blood bonded or not blood bonded, his touch, however innocent, was enough to set my entire body humming.

"You did this on purpose!", I murmured against his smooth skin.

"What?", he asked. Genuinely perplexed. I grinned. This was like the good ol' days, i.e when Eric was human. He couldn't bullshit me. Not anymore. I knew how he felt. In the moment. And vice versa I suspected. No cryptic fairy magic induced dreams needed.

"Wore me out so I'd be to tired to argue with you.", I said

He laughed. Taken aback.

"I wish that I was that clever."

The conversation grew serious again once Eric checked his cellphone.

"The Shreveport pack is gonna side with us. Hallow's people left too much incriminating evidence behind.", he reported.

Huh?

"Bite and claw marks. On the bodies of the dead witches. And the police is teeming with wolves."

Who didn't want to be outed, least of all in such a grisly manner.

Eric was texting like mad thing - his fingers all blurry.

"My day-man is going to be keeping an eye on your friend Holly. Meanwhile, Alcide is going to be tracking Debbie Pelt's movements."

"But they're dating!", I sputtered.

Eric smiled. Grimly.

"I know. It's perfect."

Again, huh?

"If spotted, he's a suspicious boyfriend. Not someone acting on behalf of the former sheriff of Area Five.", Eric reasoned.

Stunned silence.

"I know that he doesn't trust her", I admitted, tentatively: "He's been hedging his bets. Still..."

"Alcide's father wants to be the next pack-master.", Eric countered.

Oh

That sorta explained Maria Star. Relapsed or not, Debbie was still a V-addict. She'd been a vampire's branded pet were. She wasn't a suitable daughter in law. Not if you wanted to be pack-master. Suddenly I found myself pitying Maria Star. Hell, I even pitied Debbie. Who knew that I had it in me? Even her quasi-obsessed boyfriend was, on some level, rooting for her to fail.

"I suppose that Herveaux Senior's gambling problem isn't common knowledge.", I mused.

"Not at present."

The steely glint in Eric's eyes was unmistakable.

"All right. Anything else that I need to know?", I murmured.

Enter Pam.

"This room reeks of blood and sex."

Her eyes were wide and her pupils dilated. Her fangs were out and her long hair billowing in an nonexistent wind.

"Pam", Eric barked: " Outside."

She pouted. Actually pouted.

"Now."

His tone of voice left no room for dissent.

* * *

><p>Pam's POV<p>

"I'm not sharing her, Pam."

Touchy.

I leaned against the porch railing, hands on my hips, eyes fixed on my maker's.

"I'd settle for borrowing her."

"Pam!", he growled.

Tetchy even.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later...<p>

Stunned silence.

* * *

><p>Sookie's POV.<p>

The house was spotless. Not having anything to do was playing merry hell with my nerves. Eventually I dozed off, watching Buffy DVDs. Sometime in the afternoon. After Buffy put an end to the adventures of Invisible Smurf.

When I woke up, Eric was murmuring softly in my ear. Something about the time. He was wearing a blue shell suit and sneakers. Sorta weird, but it worked on him. Only him, I suspected.

"You need to eat.", he added.

It was a ready meal, but one of the nicer ones, who taste like actual food - a rice and chicken dish of some sort. Add to that a glass of water and a can of diet Coca Cola. With a fork and a knife. Right there on the coffee table. There was even a napkin. I was impressed. I told Eric as much, which earned me another one of those rare beaming smiles of his. He leaned back on the couch, casually sipping from a glossy black mug as he watched me eat.

"True Blood?", I asked between bites.

"Donor blood. From the freezer.", he said.

Presumably heated in the microwave. It was a nice moment. Oddly domestic with emphasis on the odd, but nice. Pam walked in on it, carrying her own glossy black mug. She'd spent the day in the cubby with Eric.

Finally I downed the remainder of the water, wiped the corners of my mouth and scrunched up the napkin. Meanwhile Eric got a call on his cellphone. He'd barely made it out of the living room when Pam pounced on me.

"So tell me, Cupcake", she purred, taking a seat next to me: "How did my maker convince you to marry him?"

"Is that really any of your business, Pam?", I asked - my stern tone belied by my inadvertent smile. Pam was pouting.

"You can't be glamoured.", she stated.

A fact that I thanked God for every damn day!

"And judging from the sorry state of your wardrobe you can't be bought.", she added.

I pursed my lips.

"And you don't respond well to threats."

She smirked.

"He grovelled, didn't he?"

"No!"

"Turned into a big bonerless pussycat."

Okay, I might've laughed at that. Just a little bit.

"No! God...He apologized. For the whole Russell Edgington thing. Sorta. Then..."

Oh what hell, I thought to myself, she might be the one person who'd actually believe it...

* * *

><p><strong>A Flashback<strong>

The deed to my house. I hugged it to my chest. Mine. All mine. The ancestral Stackhouse home. Shiny and almost new. With the cost of utilities and taxes paid trough out the year. In 45 minutes I'd have to renew Eric's invitation - If I felt like it. No vampire would ever be free to enter my house without an invitation from your truly.

All that Eric supposedly wanted in return was an hour of my time. Well, that was fine with me. Even of he was making a strange use of it, pacing up and down my living room floor. Meanwhile I put away the papers. There was this handy drawer in my polished coffee table. Then I got comfortable on the couch.

Ten minutes later, he was still pacing. The damn broke.

"What is it that you want to say to me, Eric?"

He kept his back to me.

"I want to marry you."

"What?"

That vampire had the weirdest sense of humour. He spun on his heals.

"I want to marry you.", he repeated. In a slightly louder voice.

He wasn't laughing. Not even smirking. In fact, bad pun intended, he looked dead serious.

"Why?"

"It would keep you safe. In Bon Temps. Away from Bill and the Queen."

Point. But he didn't answer my question.

"What would be in it for you? I'm not going to have sex with you if that's what-"

"I do not extort sexual favours from women."

His voice was cold. Matter of fact.

"Yeah? Well, I can't be bribed-"

"You already said that. And no. I don't want your blood either."

I quirked an eyebrow.

"So you don't want to fuck me and bite me?", I sneered.

At what point during this conversation did I jump off the couch? It must have happened because I was right up in his stupid, handsome, ever so stoic, face.

"Disappointed?", he smirked.

I was this close to slapping him. My anger gradually dissipated as his hungry eyes roamed over the expanse of my body, leaving me with that strange empty feeling. I wrapped my arms around myself, looking intently at my feet.

"Look. Whatever it is that you want from me, it's not... I've got nothing left to give."

There. That was the truth at the heart of the matter. Stick a fork in me. I'm done.

Silence.

"You asked me what's in it for me.", Eric eventually murmured.

Silence.

"You. Safe and sound. Right here. That's what I get."

Silence.

"There's plenty of things that I want to do with you, but I'd settle for that."

Silence.

"I'll do my best to protect you no matter what you decide to do. Marrying me would simply be the most efficient means to that end."

He tucked some hair back behind my left ear. Our gazes locked.

"Really?"

"Yes. I owe you that."

Sure did. Still, colour me sceptical.

"Besides, whether I like it or not-"

Judging by his tone of voice Eric didn't like it one bit.

"I am yours."

Catching flies. That's me. Eric squirmed. Actually squirmed. I got the distinct impression that if he'd been human, he would've been blushing. Looking away, he added: "I don't expect you to trust me right off the bat. If anything I'm asking for the opportunity to earn your trust."

* * *

><p><strong>Last call<strong>

Back in the present...

"That's grovelling at its finest, Pinkie Pie."

Pam grin was smug to the umpteenth degree. I rolled my eyes.

* * *

><p>Two hours later...<p>

I was sitting at the wheel of an armoured vehicle with tinted windows in Shreveport's industrial area, where Hallow and her lot were holed up in an abandoned warehouse. Riding shotgun was Bobby Burnham, Eric's day man. The back seat was occupied by a load of, what I was quickly coming to think of as the vampire equivalent of juice boxes, i.e bags of donated blood.

Bobby was a loud broadcaster. With a big man crush on Eric. Why his hero would want to marry an uneducated waitress, who wasn't even that pretty, was unfathomable to him. I had to have some special skill. Most likely of the sexual variety. If I was ever in danger of getting big head on account of being quasi-irresistible to vampires, deflating it would take less than five minutes in the company of this guy. Between blocking him and the mental outpourings of the people engaged in violent struggle inside the adjacent building, my mental shields were already taking a battering when I was hit by the emotional equivalent of a tidal wave.

Colour and sound drained from the world. Time itself seemed to slow down. As the icy waters of pain and despair closed over my head, I turned to Bobby.

"Give me your gun!"

His lips moved. Reason implied that he was talking. Objecting. I knew that he was carrying. My hand closed around his neck. Squeezed.

"Give. Me. Your. Gun. Please."

That got the intended result. I don't actually remember exiting the car. My next memory was of white fog spilling across an threshold. Thick, wet, white, sticky fog that rendered your sense of sound and sight useless until the very moment when someone pounced on you. Thankfully, I didn't need either. Keeping my eyes fixed on the floor to avoid stepping on pieces of broken furniture and broken bodies, I let my irregular sixth sense guide me, dodging attackers as well friendlies left and right. I almost slipped a couple of times in various kinds of... stuff. Let's keep it at that. Stuff.

I found Eric at the back, on the floor. Two darks shapes were tearing into the flesh of his prone body. Like hyenas. They were roughly humanoid, but with the claws, teeth and glowing eyes of mad wolves. Half changed. I shot one in the head. The other caught the bullet in its shoulder. It struck me in the face, knocking me to the floor. I felt as if I'd been hit by a wall. The back of my head was oozing. The injured werewolf had dug its teeth into Eric's jugular.

As I watched, the bullet dropped to the floor. The wound faded, leaving no discernible trace

And Eric was dying.

The shot of white light from my hands sent the werewolf flying into a nearby wall. Then I blacked out.

* * *

><p>"Drink.", a familiar voice rasped.<p>

I awoke to the sensation of something sticky being poured down my throat. Eric was feeding me his blood. From his torn up wrist. Bill's injuries were bad after the torture at the hands of Lorena, but nothing like this. Eric truly looked like one of the walking dead. His clothes were torn, revealing a wealth of gaping bite wounds. His eyes had lost their usual lustre, the iris turned almost white, and his skin was as pale as that of a ghost. I swallowed obediently and felt the familiar itching sensation associated with accelerated healing.

"Stay.", he commanded, leaving neither Pam nor I any opportunity to object. He was there. Then he wasn't. I back in the car. This time in the front passenger seat. Pam was sprawled in the back. Her blouse was torn. So was her skin. Several ribs were poking through it.

"Oh, my god!", I scrambled get across the partition, "What do you need?"

"Push. Them. Back. In.", she exclaimed through gritted teeth.

And Bobby was nowhere to be seen. Peachy. Just peachy. Thankfully I'd had quite bit of Eric's blood lately so I had the strength needed to comply with her instructions.

"Thank you."

Pam drained six bags of donor blood within a matter of seconds. I watched in rapt fascination as her body healed itself.

"You're welcome."

A beat.

"I'll take the wheel", she murmured, blurred, and rematerialized in the driving seat. The space left behind was occupied by Eric. He looked slightly pinker and his injuries were healing, only too slow for my taste.

"The wolves are going to see to the clean up.", he said. Pam turned the key in the ignition.

"Whereto?"

"My place."

And off we vent.

I handed Eric a vampire juice box. He tore into it, emptying it in an instant. And then another. And one more. Lather, rinse, repeat. Eventually he was all healed up. Then I asked the question:"Where's Bobby?"

Eric closed his eyes.

"Death. Finally dead. The same fate befell Clara, Jackson and Chou."

Three out of the four highly capable vampires, whose services he'd conscripted tonight besides Pam. They'd all owed him big favours. They'd also been loyal to Eric in his function as sheriff. Nonetheless, I had to ask: "How did they get the drop on you guys?"

"They were forewarned.", Pam said, catching my eye in the rearview mirror.

"By who?"

"Sophie Anne have been known to use electrical listening devices."

"She bugged my house?", I screeched.

Pam grimaced.

"Or another party may be at fault.", Eric interjected: "Colonel Flood were among the dead."

A beat.

"I'll get someone to do sweep of your house. Just in case. And then we're getting outside surveillance cameras.", Eric added, already texting, I suspected, said someone. Just this once I appreciated his high-handedness. I was getting sick and tired of people, super and au natural, walking on and off my property, whenever they saw fit and without me knowing about it.

"What about Debbie Pelt?", I asked.

"She didn't grace the battlefield with her presence."

Suddenly I found myself wondering whether Eric saw himself as indebted to Alcide. The latter was an employee of the former. A very well paid one at that. Still, I couldn't help but feel that I owed him something. If not for his timely intervention, Hadley would've been guilty of murder, not merely attempted murder. More importantly, there'd be no Eric.

"It might've been Bobby.", I interjected. Yes, you shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but it could've been him who spilled the beans. As opposed to Alcide squealing like a pig to save his precious Debbie.

"I doubt it.", Pam said: "I didn't like the pipsqueak, but he was loyal to a fault."

Eric shrugged, saying: "Somehow, I doubt that Debbie was the only pack-member associating with Hallow."

Eric had a very low opinion of werewolves. Still, I couldn't fault his logic. Besides, I just wanted to burn my soiled clothes, have a scolding hot shower, a big drink of water and sleep for a week. Preferably cuddled up next to Eric.

"What happened to Hallow?

He quirked a brow at me.

I quirked a brow at him.

"She broke her neck in the fall."

_Oh_

* * *

><p><strong>Intermission<br>**

I closed the door behind the reporter, feeling immensely relived. Never again. Between yesterday's photo shoot and this interview, we'd repaid our debts to Nan Flanagan. With interest. Strong arms enveloped me. I relaxed, resting my head on Eric's shoulder.

"What was she thinking that made you so angry?"

I sighed. Of course he'd ask...

"She was wondering why someone like you would marry someone like me."

A pour, uneducated, white trash fangbanger from Bumfuck, Louisiana, with a crazy streak and a weird name. She'd done her research. I'd give her that. Interviewed pretty much everyone living in Bon Temps previous to the interview, including my own brother who was a sucker for a pretty face. Credit where credit is due, he'd contributed with nothing newsworthy. There'd been five holdouts: Terry, Andy, Holly, Lafayette and Jesus. Note to self: Send them personalized gift baskets within the immediate future.

"If she writes anything unfavourable, Nan will tear her throat out."

Yea for the negation of the freedom of the press?

"Her attitude only serves to confirm my low opinion of humans in general.", he added. I stifled a smile. Vampires. Werewolves. Fairies. Humans. Eric had a low opinion of everyone in general.

"I'm human.", I chided. Well, partly human.

"You are kind and brave. More so than any other person I've ever met."

My heart skipped a beat. His voice was dispassionate. So very matter of fact. The sky is blue. Water is wet. I, Sookie Stackhouse, was the bravest and kindest person that he'd ever met. Granted he'd been mostly hanging out with vampires, which tend to view kindness as weakness by another name, but it was still one hell of a compliment.

Finding myself stuck for words, I kissed him. When I came up for air, my crisp white button down shirt was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, and he was pulling down my bra strap with his teeth. His big hands dipped beneath my skirt, squeezing my ass. His lips traced the outline of my collarbone and headed south.

"I want you to live with me."

"Mm hmm", I murmured, lost in the highly pleasurable sensations of the moment.

Then it hit me.

I pushed him away. Literally.

"You said that you wanted me to work for you."

"That too."

His eyes were fixed on my chest. I rolled my eyes and put on his discarded T-shirt, crossing my arms to avoid inconvenient bouncing.

"I'm not ready for that."

_Not yet._

"Us living together or working together?"

"Living together."

"I'd be in the cubby anyway."

My eyes narrowed.

"It's not the same thing and you know it."

He'd be a guest in case of the latter. Not cohabiting.

"Excellent!"

"What?"

Eric was beaming.

"You'll work for me and I'll stay in the cubby."

"You tricked me!"

"How?"

I pursed my lips.

"You don't want to work for me?", he asked.

I drew a deep breath before answering. Now wasn't the time for ill-considered words.

"You'd be my boss. I can't date my boss. I_ loathe_ being told what to do."

There. I'd said it. Truth be told, that was the primary reason why I'd never dated Sam. Eric's lips twitched.

"It would be a partnership. You'd be working _with_ Pam and I. Like you've been working _with_ us ever since you agreed to marry me."

_Oh_

"Only you'd get a fixed salary. Would you prefer a stake in the business? Like Pam?"

"No... No! A fixed salary would be great."

I wasn't blind to the fact that recent events had left little if no time for working. If it hadn't been for Sam's crush on me I'd been fired five times over at this point.

"With health care insurance, a pension plan and a company car."

It wasn't a question. In his mind's eye Eric was already drawing up the contract.

"A bonus in the case of near death experiences?"

"No!"


End file.
